


Turning Page

by sincewewereeighteen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lawyer Harry, Lovers to exes - Freeform, M/M, Mysterious Louis, Smut, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-12-07 15:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18236699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincewewereeighteen/pseuds/sincewewereeighteen
Summary: It's funny how you think you know somebody just to find out that you don't. And even then, you just can't stop loving them. Some things are forever. No matter what.





	1. PART I

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING:  
> I've never ever written something like this, so I apologize in advance if I'm shit at it.  
> Hope you enjoy this first part.  
> :)

When Harry rings the bell, it doesn’t feel like giving in. For the past few days he’s been overthinking this decision, but now that he is here it just feels… Easy. It feels right.

The seconds Louis takes to open the door are excruciating. He’s here, after their biggest fight yet, and can’t help but feel eager to put an end to it, and go back to being who they are.

Louis opens the door with a red nose and swollen eyes. He’s in his favorite sweatpants and one of Harry’s oldest sweaters; his hair’s pointing everywhere. Harry’s heart breaks. And Louis is still gorgeous.

 

“Hi.” Louis says, sniffling. “I’m sorry I’m- you know,” he gestures to himself. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I was at the movies.” Harry blurts out.

“Okay.”

“I was watching this movie, right? And suddenly Bradley Cooper came on the screen and I thought, _eh, he’s all right._ ” He starts explaining, though he knows he isn’t making much sense yet. “And _who does that?_ Seriously, who stares at Bradley Fucking Cooper for over an hour and doesn’t think much of him because they have someone _much_ better?” He asks, admittedly, a bit hysterical. “Me! _I_ get to do that. I’m lucky enough to do that! Because you’re- you’re perfect. You’re absolutely perfect and everything I’ve always dreamed of, and I’m _sorry_ for being such an idiot. I don’t care if you don’t wanna move in and I don’t care if you can’t come to a stupid birthday party in Montana. I just- I just don’t want to be in a fight, so, _please_ , forgive me.” Harry’s breathless when he finishes, not being used to saying so many words at once. “Louis. Please, forgive me.” He says, once again.

“I’m not better than Bradley Cooper, love.” Louis chuckles, lifting a hand to Harry’s right cheek. His thumb catches a tear that was threatening to roll down his face.

“Yes, yes, you are.” Now _Harry’s_ the one sniffling.

“You don’t know me, Hazz.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.” Louis says firmly. Walks one step closer. “Not completely. Not… _Yet_.”

“We have time.” He bows his head down, their mouths inches apart.

Louis lifts his other hand to Harry’s hair, his fingers closing in a tight fist around Harry’s curls.

“I’m sorry too, baby.” His boyfriend whispers. “I’ve been crying for three days straight now, and everyone at work thinks my cat died or something.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“I know.” He chuckles, but Harry feels rather than sees it, his eyes closed as their foreheads touch. “I missed you like crazy. And no amount of Ryan Gosling on Netflix made it go away.” Then, Louis pecks his lips. Once, twice, three times. The fourth time lasts a bit longer, then Louis is pulling him into his apartment.

They hug for a long time. Harry breathes evenly for the first time since he stormed out of this place, on Friday.

“I’m not better than Ryan Gosling, babe.” Harry then says.

“Yes, yes, you are.” Louis smiles and pulls him in for another kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He replies. And Harry believes him.

 

-

 

It all happened a year and a half ago.

You see, Harry never considered himself to be a lucky person, not in his relationships at least. He’s always had a great family, amazing friends, his grades were good, his college experience was amazing, and he had a good job. When he was a kid, he always told everyone he wanted to become a singer. Then, twenty-five years old, Harry was working at one of Chicago’s biggest law firms, and he was celebrating his first month on the job when he met Louis a year and a half ago.

It wasn’t cinematographic at all. He doesn’t even have a pretty story to tell when people ask him how he met the love of his life. Harry was drunk out of his mind at a bar near the Navy Pier, and he was just about to throw up on the dance floor when he decided to do it outside. Harry walked through the maze of people and found a side door just in time. It would’ve been okay. Harry would’ve opened the door, walked towards a trashcan and thrown up in there.

What happened, instead, was that he stumbled his way out of the door, and fell, face first, on the sidewalk. The fall made him even sicker, and that’s where he threw up, in that exact same position. It was disgusting; it was one of the worst things that happened to him. Harry did it twice more, then looked around to see if anybody was looking. To his surprise, the most stunning man he had ever seen was standing right there, with an unfinished cigarette in between his fingers, his other hand popped against his hip.

“Oh. My. God.” Harry mumbled, then lay down on the floor. _Fuck my life_ , he thought.

“I reckon even God is laughing right now, dude.” And that voice! _That voice!_ When Harry first heard it he just knew he was doomed. He just didn’t know how much.

The guy helped him get up and took him to the restroom so Harry could wash his mouth and face. Thankfully, he wasn’t too hurt. Only found a scraped knee when he got home, after the stranger at the time put him in a cab. Another thing Harry found (but that was only two days later, when he was doing laundry), was a small note with the guy’s number and a small message, telling him to text or call, to let him know if he was all right.

 

Their first date was on the following weekend. To this day Harry has _no idea_ how Louis said yes after that first impression, but they went to a small cafe just on the corner of Harry’s office, and from that day on, Harry has been in love. It was the way Louis laughed, he reckons.

(You see, people think of laughing as just a noise that comes from someone’s mouth, but when Louis laughs, it’s not just that. His laugh is in his eyes and how his whole face changes, becomes more relaxed. His laugh comes from within… Harry thinks that’s just the way he’s wired, really.

People like Louis just have more flexible brains, like all that humor bubbling around him is like yoga for the synapses. Just being around him for a few minutes is better than a whole day of spa. Just the sound of his giggles is enough to transport Harry far, far away from all the worries and tensions of his daily life.)

They didn’t go on many dates before they made their relationship official. Harry wasn’t keen on waiting to call Louis his, and Louis wasn’t exactly the most easygoing guy whenever someone hit on Harry at clubs and such. They fell in love in a month or so, about the same time when they became boyfriends.

And now, here they are. Harry’s still at the same law firm, Louis is still coaching the baseball team, and they’re still together. Sure, they have some spats here and there, but they make it work; they always do.

 

-

 

“So, what’s on the agenda next week?” Louis asks him when they’re just about to fall asleep on Louis’ bed.

“Lots of research. I might have to go into the office tomorrow.”

“On a Saturday? Ouch.” His boyfriend scrunches his face.

“We could go to yoga on Sunday, though- maybe play tennis at the club afterwards, weather’s nice for April.” He suggests.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Louis kisses his temple. “What kind of research?”

“The top secret kind.” Harry smiles mischievously. Louis doesn’t press him, knowing he’ll tell it anyways. “Guy’s suing a company that created this insulin machine- claims that it malfunctioned in the middle of the night and that’s what killed his wife.”

“And…”

“And the hearing’s on Monday and in order for Roger to kick the other lawyer’s ass, he needs us to have something on his client, maybe something that proves it was the husband’s fault, not the machine’s. Which is cold blooded if you ask me, but- that’s the job.” He sighs.

“Sounds awful, babe, I’m sorry.”

Harry cuddles in closer, his back to Louis’ chest. Louis kisses his shoulder twice before speaking again.

“Why doesn’t Roger do the work, though?”

“Because he’s the boss, duh- he just says words and looks pretty in front of the judge.”

“ _You’d_ look prettier in front of the judge.” His boyfriend kisses him again and Harry turns his head to peck his mouth, turning the kiss into something more. He flattens on his back and Louis throws one of his legs on his body, moving around a bit so he’s hovering over Harry.

“I missed you.” Harry says for the umpteenth time today.

“I missed you too. So fucking much,” Louis’ eyes are sad, his hands cradling Harry’s face, one of them playing with his hair. He leans down for another kiss.

“No more fighting.” Harry decides and pulls him in by the hair, opening Louis’ mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Louis lets his weight fall into Harry’s body and stays there. Harry doesn’t know for how long they kiss, but it’s enough to get them semi-hard and sleepy at the same time. Deciding to give Louis a proper blow job in the morning, he ends their make out session with lingering pecks to the corner of his mouth, cheeks and chin.

Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest, Harry hugs him tighter, and they fall asleep almost at the same time, tangled legs and similar heart beats.

 

Morning comes way too soon.

For someone who hasn’t slept well in the past few days, when the alarm rings, it feels just like an hour has passed. The bed is empty, and there’s no noise coming from the bathroom, which means Louis is probably in the kitchen; he’s always there trying to make food after they fight. It’s cute.

Harry washes his face and even though it’s seven in the morning, he’s got a smile on. He brushes his teeth (something that Louis always teases him about, because _I’ll never understand why you do it before having breakfast if you’re gonna do it again afterwards_ ), ruffles his hand through his hair and puts some pants on before making his way out of the bedroom. Lord knows Harry loves being naked, but never around food; he thinks it’s a bit gross.

Just like he imagined, when he gets to the kitchen his boyfriend’s in his pajamas, staring intently at the iPad screen, which shows an easy recipe for French toast — Harry didn’t even know there were _difficult_ recipes for French toast, but oh well.

“Morning, sunshine.” He says, an easy smile on his face.

“Hey. Hi!” Louis smiles back, already raising his arms to circle Harry’s neck.

Harry pulls him by the hips and pecks his lips, then kisses his forehead.

“I wanted to do something nice for you.” His boyfriend says, explaining the mess.

“So you cooked?” Harry teases.

Louis full on laughs and slaps his arm.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me.” He bargains.

“That I do.” Louis replies, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Sometimes it’s nostalgic, when he says it. Louis doesn’t have an easy past and he doesn’t talk much about it, and he’s just as difficult to read; in the past eighteen months Harry’s known him, the only thing he knows for sure is that Louis’ relationship with love is complicated, like it’s something so completely new to him regardless of its form that it catches him off guard every time it is mentioned.

The first thing that drew Harry towards this man was his beauty; but what made him fall for Louis was the mystery, it was the fact that Harry couldn’t really figure him out, but he knew he’d have a lot of fun trying. And he wasn’t wrong. He’s always learning new things about Louis, and he has a feeling that he always will be.

Like this morning, for example, Harry learns that Louis _can_ follow a recipe if he pays attention to it.

They eat together and still play footsie under the table after all this time; and Harry still blushes, after all this time.

The blow job happens in the shower, which they take together before heading for the office. They take Louis’ car and his boyfriend makes sure to stop by the donut shop in order to get sweets for everyone.

“Poor bastards working on a Saturday morning, they deserve some happiness.” He comments.

“They’re _my_ co-workers, though, I should be the one getting them things. Since Roger doesn’t, I mean.” Harry says.

“Harry you bake pastries and bring juice to the teenagers at the school every time they have a game. You’re basically their favorite person. Just lemme do this.” He rolls his eyes. Harry kisses his cheek and rests his chin on Louis’ shoulder while they wait for their order, hugging him from behind.

“When’s the next game, by the way?”

“In two weeks.”

“Uh! It’s against the Boston school, isn’t it?” His eyes light up, suddenly remembering the year’s calendar. “It’s gonna be a hell of a game! Damn, that’s gonna be good, I can’t miss it.”

“Y-yeah.” Louis looks down. “Yeah. It’s gonna be good.”

“Reckon there’ll be any scouts there?”

“Probably.”

“I’m gonna need to bake a cake alongside the pastries! Louis!” He exclaims. “Patrick’s going to get a scholarship. Oh my God! Louis!”

Harry hugs him tight, and smiles in the crook of his neck.

“Shit, H, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, alright.” He all but rains on Harry’s parade.

“Yeah, alright, you’re right.”

“Parker!” The clerk calls.

“That’s us.” Louis says and detaches himself from Harry, going to get their order.

Together, they go to the office, and as soon as Harry gets to his desk Louis kisses him goodbye and goes to the Human Resources department check if poor Camilla is there; Louis is always pestering her to know when Harry’s going to get vacation time so they can go on a trip together. Harry’s pretty sure she isn’t in today, since only the lawyers and paralegals involved in this case are in the building apparently, but he doesn’t mind.

There’s not much to be done, and the hearing is closer than ever, so everyone is a bit jittery as they type away in their computers; sometimes they talk, sometimes they sigh loudly and look at each other sympathetically. Louis comes back, turns around and around in a chair, and then gets up, pecks Harry’s lips and disappears again.

Harry doesn’t remember if they have plans tonight. He’s sort of hoping that they don’t, but he checks his phone anyway, just to find out that his sister is in town, therefore they’re all going to a karaoke bar together. It’ll be fun, he thinks, if he can just get this over with.

 

Around three p.m., there is literally nothing more they can do, and Milo is the one to call it. He and Harry aren’t best friends, but they’ve won cases and played darts together, so, maybe they are at least friendly. And Harry agrees with him. After putting all their research together and feeling like absolute shit, Harry texts Louis (who is God knows where) to let him know that they’re done and starts collecting his things.

“Hey, Harry…” Milo approaches him.

“Yeah?” He lifts his head.

“Good job today. On this case, generally.” Milo’s just made junior partner; he’s been here almost two years longer than Harry, so, whenever he tells him he’s doing well, Harry likes to hear it.

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” Harry smiles big.

“Uh- Stephanie, Josh and I are going out to celebrate… Would you like to come?” He tries. He’s always asking Harry to do something; it’s not always that Harry says yes.

“I- uh- I think I’d rather celebrate when we’ve won it.”

“Plus,” Louis shows up out of thin air, hand tight on his waist. “We already have plans with Harry’s sister. Right, babe?” His boyfriend looks at him, a fake smile on his face.

“R-right.”

“Yes, we should get going.” Louis says. “Goodbye, Milo.” He looks seriously at him.

“Goodbye, Louis.”

It’s awkward. It always is.

“Bye, Milo, bye guys.” Harry waves and so does Louis, a lot nicer now. “You really don’t like him, do you?” He whispers to Louis on his way out.

“I don’t like man who wants my boyfriend, no.” He answers.

“Lou, that’s a bit stupid.” The lawyer rolls his eyes, getting into the elevator.

“Oh, is it? Mr. _I’m gonna hit a sixteen year old_?” Louis laughs.

“That was _once_ and he was _totally_ hitting on you.”

“Harry, he was sixteen.” He squeezes his waist.

Harry huffs out.

“You’re changing topics.”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” His boyfriend replies cheekily. So Harry pins him against the elevator wall and kisses him silent.

 

-

 

It shouldn’t be this hard to choose an outfit.

Louis decides to spend the rest of the weekend at Harry’s place, arguing that he’s too tired of his own pastel walls, so it takes him a while to choose an outfit for tonight. He’s got everything he needs to survive at Harry’s place: boxers, pants, a pair of vans, chargers, a toothbrush and his contact solution. He’s often borrowing Harry’s sweaters too, because he likes to feel small in them.

But when it comes to going out, most of his clothes are at his apartment, because he refuses to let Harry wash, dry and iron everything he wears (he pays someone to do it, obviously). Therefore, they make a stop at Louis’ place so he can pack “quickly”, and when they finally make it to Harry’s, they’re both hungry and exhausted.

“Do we eat or do we nap?” Harry asks.

“You’ve worked a lot today, so I say we nap, and then we eat a lot at dinner with your sister.” Louis suggests.

“Hmkay. Shower?” He asks again. Sometimes he just needs Louis to take care of things; take care of him.

“Later. C’mon, bunny, let’s get to bed.” Louis pulls him by the hand into the bedroom and starts undressing him. “Do you have a headache? You still have aspirin in your medicine cabinet.”

“I do, yeah.” Harry sighs and closes his eyes, sitting down on the bed.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” His boyfriend (the best boyfriend in the world) kisses his temple and gets out.

Louis takes only a minute, and then he’s back with a pill and some water. Harry downs it quickly and then receives a long, tongue-heavy kiss from Louis. It’s all he needs to lie down and fall asleep soundly for almost four hours.

 

-

 

Family seems to be something that Harry lives for and that Louis can’t wait to escape. Harry’s always had supportive parents, who have loved him through everything and made sure he’s all right. For all Harry knows, Louis’ parents let him know what a disappointment he was before he even turned eighteen, since he didn’t want to become and engineer or a doctor or a businessman.

When they met, their love connection was instant, but neither of them had no idea what they’d be getting. However, in just a few short months Louis confessed to Harry that it was like he had just gotten a new life, and it was an adjustment for him to have somewhere to go to for a holiday lunch, and that those moments where he got to spend with Harry’s family felt like coming home in a way that he’s never experienced.

At the very beginning, Harry had the impression Louis felt out of place, which is why watching the difference now always makes him get watery eyes. He enters the bar before Harry does, and screams _TOMMY BOY_ before Harry can even locate her sister and her fiancé. Louis hugs Tom before Gemma, and it earns him a knock in the head.

“I missed him, leave me alone.” He complains to the woman. “God, you’re tan. I envy you so much.” Louis proceeds to say, eyeing the couple.

“Florida’s doing you well, Sis.” Harry hugs her sideways, kissing her head. “You- eh. You’re alright.” He moves to hug Tom.

“Yeah, sure. We’re still waiting on a visit, you know…” Tom says, and sits back down, followed by everyone else.

“Harry never gets a vacation.” Louis says, dismissing him with his hands. Harry slaps it a way. Louis kisses his cheek.

“I may be able to get one in the summer. We could go to the beach.” He then says, playing with the hairs on Louis’ nape.

Louis only smiles, looking down.

“That’d be ace!” Gemma chips in. “I’m actually thinking about purchasing a boat?” She sort of asks.

“You’re what?” Harry’s agape at his sister.

“We were talking, and… I think we can scrape enough money…” She looks at Tom.

“And we could have our wedding there. Literally only close friends and family.” He responds.

“That-” Louis coughs. “That’s lovely.” He offers, voice small.

“Babe, are you okay?” Harry asks him privately.

“Yes. Yes. I’m gonna go get us drinks.” He squeezes Harry’s hand under the table and gets up, walking towards the bar.

 

The four of them have the time of their lives. They start out with beers, because they still need to eat, but after they make sure they have a full stomach and clogged arteries, filled with burgers and fries, they move on to drinks and shots and every kind of alcoholic beverage they can think of.

Harry and Gemma are the first ones to sing. It’s _Firework_ , by Katy Perry, and it’s so horrendous it is glorious. This time Louis does not Instagram it, too busy laughing his ass off with Tom. Then Harry and Louis sing together, a practiced rendition of _You’re The One That I Want_ , and funnily enough they’ve got the whole bar singing the chorus with them, while they dance on the stage as well.

At last, Louis goes up with Tom, and they sing _The Death Of A Bachelor_ by Panic! At The Disco, just because Louis thinks the title of the song is fun and it suits Tom’s current situation. Harry stares at him with admiration and he doesn’t think he will ever stop. When he glances at Gemma, she has the same expression, looking at her fiancé.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” Harry brushes shoulders with her, asking the most obvious question.

“He is the love of my life.” His sister smiles bashfully. “I’m gonna grow old with him, so help me God.” She lays her head on Harry’s shoulder.

And yes. Harry gets the feeling.

 

-

 

They’re too drunk when they get home to do anything but get in the shower and then head to bed. Harry doesn’t even bother to dry his hair this time. They’re not sleepy, per se, but they don’t do anything other than kiss a lot and rut against each other till they come. Louis, always Louis, bless him, comes back with baby swipes and cleans them up, spooning Harry and singing him to sleep. It’s one of his favorite nights yet.

 

Sunday morning is cruel, but good. Harry gets out of bed first and starts on breakfast, and only half an hour later Louis joins him with a good morning kiss.

“Good morning indeed.” He eyes him, noticing the huge hard on Louis has.

“HA! It’ll go down soon enough, we can’t be late!”

“For what?” Harry yawns, turning off the stove and moving the eggs to their respective plates.

“Yoga. Today we’re going to yoga class and then to the club, are we not?” He asks.

“Can we do yoga and then home? I’m sooo lazy!”

“Anything for you.” Louis pecks his lips. “Now, gimme my eggs!” He stretches his hand out.

“Here you go, Sir.”

“Don’t call me _sir_ if you want my erection to go down.” He warns, turning around and going to sit at the island.

“Who says I want your erection to go down?” Harry raises an eyebrow. “Your erection is a blessing, it is a masterpiece, really.”

“Shut up.” Louis laughs.

“Hey, Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you today.” He says.

“Love you today, baby.”

They say it like that sometimes. Once Harry read that couples that have been together for a long time start saying _I love you_ out of habit, since they’ve been saying it for forever, but sometimes they don’t really mean it. A way he has found to assure Louis that he loves him _always_ , that he loves him _in the present_ , is to say _I love you today_. And Louis, the sap he’s turned out to be while dating Harry, does the same.

Harry loves him today. Harry loves him _every day._

 

_-_

 

At the beginning, Louis abhorred yoga. He likes combat, is the thing. For someone who’s a head shorter than Harry, Louis can throw a punch like no one Harry’s ever met. Now, he’s the bendier, biggest yoga-lover Harry knows.

Five months into their relationship, they compromised. Now, they do yoga every Saturday or Sunday, but they also kick-box on Tuesday nights. (Louis goes on Thursdays too, but he doesn’t force Harry into it. Harry’s pretty shit.)

After their healthy breakfast, they walk together with their yoga mats to the studio, hand in hand. The class lasts for about two hours, and then they spend an hour more drinking an absolutely horrendous detox juice and talking to their classmates. Julia, their yoga instructor, invites them to a retreat at the end of the month, and Louis is quick to say _no_ . ( _“There are limits, Harold.”_ He jokes. But it falls flat. Something’s off.)

 

Something keeps being off the whole day at home.

While Harry cleans the living room, Louis goes to the balcony to take a call that lasts at least forty minutes, and he comes back inside looking like death. Harry asks him what it is, but Louis dismisses it as a work thing, something with the away trip they need to take with the school baseball team is not working out, but he doesn’t want to talk about it at the moment.

 

Around seven o’clock, Louis decides he’s hungry and just _needs_ Harry to cook for him.

“I still need to wash the bathroom.” Harry responds.

“ _I’ll_ wash the bathroom, just- please, cook me something.” He asks. _Pleads._

“Okay, baby. You don’t need to wash it, just- sweep the floor, and-”

“I’ll wash it, no problem. Go, go, _kitchen!_ ” He pushes Harry away.

Fall Out Boy bursts through the speakers in Harry’s apartment, and in one hour Louis cleans the bathroom and Harry has their food almost ready. Since he had the time, he decided to cook Louis’ favorite: _fajitas_. It’s the first thing Harry ever cooked for him, and his boyfriend seems so stressed that Harry thought he could use some romance.

He sets the table while Louis showers, and even lights two candles he got from his mom last Christmas. Harry grabs the wine and the glasses, and when Louis shows up in just boxers and a black shirt, Harry needs to walk towards him and kiss him for a bit.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Hmhm.” Louis mumbles in the crook of his neck. “Let’s eat, yeah? It smells blissful in here.” He pulls Harry by the hand.

 

Dinner is a quiet affair. Louis tangles their feet under the desk — like he always does —, and Harry serves them — like he always does. When they speak, it’s because Louis is praising the food and the wine choice, and Harry is saying _thank you_ in a quiet voice. They eat everything. Then, Louis gets up to do the dishes and ushers Harry into the shower.

“I’ll meet you in bed.” He says.

“Okay.” Harry agrees easily.

 

Harry can barely believe it when the warm water hits his back. He cleans his apartment almost every week, because he can’t stand being in a dirty environment, but he doesn’t necessarily love doing it. His back hurts and his head’s starting to hurt too, so it’s a blessing to have a shower with such good pressure. He groans as the water does its work, relaxing him into an almost sleepy state.

He washes himself carefully and hopes Louis is up for sex tonight, because he could really use it. It’s been a while since he’s gotten a proper rogering. His cock perks up in interest just by thinking of it, but Harry doesn’t dare touch himself.

As soon as he deems himself clean enough, though, he gets out of the shower and towels himself, not worrying about putting anything on. Harry brushes his teeth, drinks some water, and walks naked into his room, where Louis is waiting for him, just like he said he would.

Harry’s heart melts. Louis is sitting there, only in his boxers now, with a book on his thighs and his reading glasses resting upon his nose. At the sight of Harry, Louis closes the book and leaves it with his glasses on the nightstand. He looks soft. His hair’s dry now and he has a small smile on his face.

“Good shower?” Louis asks.

“Y-yeah.” His voice’s already rough, Jesus Christ.

“Come here, baby.” His boyfriend pats his thighs and Harry doesn’t need to be told twice; he climbs on the bed and crawls until his situated in Louis’ lap. “Smell so good,” Louis says, nosing into his neck.

Harry’s whole body reacts, being at Louis’ mercy.

“Kiss me,” he says, and Louis does so.

He kisses Harry tenderly, at first, his arms wrapping around Harry’s back, and in one gentle pull their skins touch. They’re chest to chest and Harry can feel Louis’ hand traveling up to his hair, pulling a bit harshly, an indication he wants to be the one doing the fucking tonight. It’s crazy how well they already know each other, how Harry knows the soft spots Louis loves the most and how he pushes into his hands when he touches them.

They cut the kiss and just stare at each other, locking eyes just for a moment, just enough for them to feel safe with one another. One of Louis’ hands moves to his cheekbones and down to his lips; he presses his thumb right there and then kisses Harry again, moving faster, like partners in a dance that’s been rehearsed over and over again. It never really ceases to amaze Harry how well they fit together. He runs his hands over Louis’ arms and holds onto his biceps and arches his back at the same time he grinds down, cock already half hard.

Louis takes it in his hand and starts wanking him, and Harry rocks his ass into his crotch, a moan escaping his lips very early on as he stops kissing Louis once again. Louis kisses his jaw and his neck, while his hand keeps working on Harry’s cock. Eventually, he lies down and brings Harry with him, _on_ him.

Harry holds himself up with his elbows, arms framing Louis’ face, and he looks down on him again.

“Baby, I love you.” He says, leaning down for one more kiss.

“Love you more. Love you best,” Louis whispers, hands traveling down his back.

“Impossib-” He can’t finish the sentence, because Louis is kissing him once again.

They stay like that for a long time, no one seems to be in a rush, so it’s almost a surprise when Louis nudges his ass, fingers coated in lube. Harry will never know how he does it, but before he even _starts_ fingering Harry — and Harry becomes a proper mess —, he sits back up and removes Louis’ only piece of clothing, too much into the idea of sliding their dicks together.

“Come back down,” his boyfriend asks.

“As you wish.” He smiles.

Harry goes back into the same position, but this time he doesn’t hold his body up. He lies on top of Louis in a way that their dicks are aligned, Louis’ mouth’s on his neck, and his boyfriend can still reach his ass.

“Go on, then.” He says, rubbing his dick against Louis’.

 _“Fuck,_ ” Louis says.

“Yes, exactly.”

His boyfriend chuckles a bit and uses both hands on Harry’s asscheeks, massaging them and bringing them apart so his middle finger can go in. They’ve done it hundreds of times, and each and every one of them makes Harry roll his eyes and open his mouth, the pressure so good and so, so right.

Louis goes uncharacteristically slowly, but Harry does not complain. He holds Louis’ hair between the fingers of his right hand, while his left one plays with his nipples. Louis holds his ass with one and pounds it with the other, finally gaining momentum.

“Yes, _please, yes_ ,” Harry mumbles, Louis’ biting hard in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Gimme another, Lou, _please._ ” He begs. He’s on top, but he can’t do anything but _ask_.

His boyfriend gives him another finger, spreading both of them inside his hole so Harry can take him well. When he thinks Harry deserves it, he crooks them just right, and Harry scream-whispers in pleasure, legs already shaking on each side of Louis’ body, cock leaking precome between their stomachs.

“So fucking hot, love you so much,” Louis grunts, entering Harry with a third finger and rolling them on the bed, reversing their positions. “You’re perfect.” With that, he pounds his fingers faster into Harry, kissing his scream out of his mouth making Harry less coherent than he already was. This is maybe the third or fourth time Louis manages to roll them like this. It’s one of the hottest things he does in bed.

Harry spreads his legs further and offers Louis’ more tongue, nails scratching his back to try and say just how much he’s enjoying it. Louis crooks his fingers again and presses it right on his prostate, making Harry come almost completely untouched, peppering his face with kisses and words of encouragement.

 

“You’re still fucking me.” Harry comments when he catches his breath. He’s not even soft yet.

Louis smirks.

“Turn around, baby.”

Harry, once again, scrambles to follow Louis’ wish quickly and gets on all fours. He doesn’t even get a warning when Louis grabs his hips and drives into him.

“ _Oh my God.”_ He says as he lets his head hung forwards, shoulders taut holding his weight.

“Not really a god, but close enough.” Louis smirks and drives into him holding his hips like a vice, one hand traveling up to his hair and pulling it the way Harry loves, making him incapable of forming a reply.

It’s not savage in a way that is brutal; it’s just plain _hot_ , but still slow, something only _Louis_ has ever managed to do. You see, on top of being a great romantic, funny and quite smart, Louis is just a fantastic fuck, really. Harry couldn’t have asked for more when this man showed up in his life.

He gains strength and starts rocking back, meeting Louis’ thrusts.

“Jesus, baby.” Louis says now, bending down and kissing his back. “You’re so good for me,” he stops, lets Harry do the work.

He mouths at Harry’s back as Harry struggles to find his spot, and Louis, even though he’s _behind_ him, is letting him have his fun. His boyfriend circles his waist and grabs his cock, but Harry’s almost fully hard again. It never takes him long, not with this man right here.

Louis strokes him and starts fucking him again, a bit slower this time. Harry turns his head and they kiss, strained necks and all. Their tongues play with one another as Louis’ hands travel all around his body. When he notices Harry’s getting weak, he just whispers _on your back, Hazz_ , and gets his cock out, letting him situate himself on the bed again.

Harry spreads his legs one more time and there Louis is, falling in between. He takes ahold of his cock and guides it into Harry again, closing his eyes and kissing him slowly.

 

Harry believes that there _is_ a connection between _beauty_ and _love_ , but not in the way that the world makes people believe. You see, media touts a form of beauty that is simply aesthetic, something to inspire lust — a thin, fading replica of loved based more in desire and conquest. But real beauty comes from within, and it is only in this form that it can make everlasting love connections.

True love is a unity of souls, not body features and skin products that will be wiped clean away come evening time. If one truly wishes to be happy, to be healthy and grounded, one needs to find real beauty. And finding it begins with a quiet understanding of one another, not demanding perfection, but seeking the beauty every person holds within.

Louis is the most beautiful person Harry has ever met, and he thinks he might love him until the end of time.

 

He kisses him again right after Louis catches his breath, and just holds onto his hair while Louis fucks into him, eye to eye, in a way they haven’t done a lot. These moments of pure bliss and love are common for them, but at the same time, exceptional. They’re different.

Harry and Louis have had all kinds of sex: wild, hurt-the-next-morning sex; I’m-mad-at-you-but-you’re-hotter-this-way sex; make-up sex; romantic sex; drunk sex; hungover sex; sleepy sex; morning sex; semi-public sex; quiet sex; loud, _loud_ sex. But this, this so-full-of-love-I-can’t-put-into-words sex might just be Harry’s favorite.

He lets his hand fall onto Louis’ ass and back, as Louis holds on his thighs, folding Harry in half and kissing the side of his knee.

“C’mon, I’m almost there.” Harry whispers, and Louis picks up the pace. “Just- _uh_ , just like this, Lou, _yes_.”

Louis leans down and kisses his cheek, resting his forehead on Harry’s temple.

“Hazz…” He whispers as he fucks into him. Again. And again. And again.

Harry can feel him everywhere.

Louis’ fingers tighten on his thighs and Harry’s toes curl.

“Come for me, baby, c’mon…” He grabs Harry’s cock again, wanks him just in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, H, I love you so much, c’mon, love…” He asks.

This time, Harry isn’t surprised when he comes. He feels it everywhere. On his feet, on the tips of his fingers, on his lower back and in his stomach, till he is finally spilling between their bodies, moan trapped in his throat because he doesn’t even have air, caught in this bubble of come, and Louis, and bliss.

Louis comes only seconds after him, and keeps thrusting till he’s gone soft. Harry doesn’t know whether that’s sweat or a tear on his chest when Louis finally comes down and pulls out, resting his head there, but he doesn’t ask, just feels his own heart thudding against his chest, loving Louis harder and harder with every pump.

 

They talk about everything and nothing for a few minutes. Harry mentions he wants to buy a new car and that he’s super excited for Gemma’s boat wedding; he talks about them being their best man and how he can’t wait for when it’s their turn to get married. At this point, though, Louis chokes on air, and Harry chuckles, blissfuly unaware of what’s about to happen.

 

“Hey, H?” His boyfriend calls him. It’s nearly midnight and they’ve already turned off the lights.

Harry has his head on Louis’ chest this time, and Louis is playing with his hair.

“Hm…”

“Promise me you know how much I love you?” He asks.

“Lou.” Harry tightens his arms around him. “I love you.” He kisses his chest.

“I… I love you like that Arctic Monkeys song that goes like… _I’m yours, baby, I’m yours…_ ” He starts humming. _“And I’ll be yours until the stars fall from the sky, yours until the rivers all run dry.”_ He takes a breath. _“In other words, until I die.”_

“You’ve always loved your Arctic Monkeys.” Harry comments, but his voice is emotional.

“I’ve always loved _you_. Never forget that, yeah?”

“You’re not dying, are you?” He lifts his head, tries to look into Louis’ eyes even though it’s pitch black in the room.

Louis chuckles.

“No, baby, I’m not.”

“Good.” He kisses him. “I love you, Louis Parker. _Until the stars fall from the sky._ ” Harry says. Louis doesn’t answer, but hugs him tighter. And that’s how they fall asleep.

 

-

 

The alarm rings on Monday morning. The bed is empty, and there’s no noise coming from the bathroom, which means Louis is probably in the kitchen. Harry groans with his eyes still closed and his ass pleasantly sore. He gets up and walks slowly towards the kitchen, just to find it is empty too.

Still too sleepy to form a coherent thought, Harry grabs some milk inside the fridge and looks for cereals to eat, but there’s nothing in his cabinet; he distinctly remembers buying Cornflakes the other day, right before he and Louis made up last week, so he is very, very confused. He drinks the milk, eats half  a piece of toast, and then decides to get ready for work. Louis is either on a cereal run or has gone to work already.

Harry washes his face and opens the cabinet to pick up his toothbrush. And he finds it. The problem, though, is that it’s the _only_ one he finds. There’s exactly one green toothbrush alongside his toothpaste in the medicine cabinet, which is _wrong_ , because right before he went to bed, Louis’ blue one was there. And so was his contact solution and an extra pair of glasses. But- none of it is there.

“I’m going crazy.” He tells himself.

Harry brushes his teeth, dries his face, walks into the bedroom. Now, a bit more awake, he starts to… Look at things.

Louis’ shirt from last night isn’t on the floor. Their _picture_ on Harry’s nightstand isn’t there. Crazy fast, Harry runs into his closet and breathes regularly for only two-seconds. All of his clothes are there, and so are his shoes, but there’s nothing, not _one thing_ of Louis’.

No food. No toiletries. No clothes.

He might be going insane.

Harry rushes into the living room and he can’t find Louis’ shoes _anywhere._ Also, their picture from New York only three months ago is also gone. No trace of him whatsoever.

_Where the fuck is my boyfriend?_

Harry grabs his phone, and like clockwork, it starts ringing.

“Hello?” He says rapidly.

“Harry, it’s Milo.” His voice is fast, and rough. “You need to come in right the fuck now.”

“Okay, I- I’m on my way.”

 

Harry really needs to know where Louis is, along with all of his things. He also really needs to get to work, _at once_ , apparently.

Automatically, he puts on his work clothes, grabs his phone, wallet and car-keys. He writes a note, in case Louis comes back, and rushes out the door, hoping that there won’t be any traffic.

 

-

 

The first person he sees is Camilla from Human Resources. She’s got a cardboard box in her hands and is crying in a corner. Then there’s Stephanie, same thing. Josh… Then Milo.

“Wha- what the fuck is going on?” He asks.

“Roger’s in jail.” Milo tells him. “We’re all out of a job.”

 _Well, shit_.

 

It’s like the world’s spinning, but Harry is still. Everyone is cleaning out their desks on their floor, taking what is dear and important to them, but all Harry really wants is a portrait with a picture of him and Louis with his family, a drawing journal he keeps in his drawer and a fancy pen Gemma got him when he graduated.

Of all the three things, the fancy pen is all he finds there. His journal is gone and, unsurprisingly, so is the picture.

He doesn’t have his breakdown here. Not yet. There’s one more place he needs to go.

 

Harry gets in the car and calls Louis while driving on his way to his boyfriend’s (?) apartment. He’s got some serious explaining to do.

 _This phone number has been discontinued_ , a voice says, over and over again, every time Harry calls it for fifteen minutes straight, and something breaks inside of him. He’s been breaking ever since he got up and didn’t find the fucking cornflakes inside his cupboard, but it’s not until he’s parked in front of Louis’ apartment building, tears running down his cheeks, that he knows he isn’t going to find him there.

With what’s remaining of his strength this morning, Harry gets out of the car and goes inside the building. He goes up to Louis’ floor and realizes the key he had is not with him anymore. Then, he talks to the landlord.

 

“I- Have you- Has Louis Parker talked to you, Sir?” He asks him.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Louis Parker.”

“I’ve never met any Louis Parker, Young Man. I’m sorry.” And then he walks away.

 

 _I’ve never met any Louis Parker. I’ve never met any Louis Parker._ _I’ve never met any Louis Parker._ _I’ve never met any Louis Parker._ _I’ve never met any Louis Parker._ _I’ve never met any Louis Parker._ The sentence keeps repeating itself on Harry’s mind, like the saddest, most broken melody ever written by a dying pianist.

 

Harry doesn’t know how he manages to drive home, tears blurring his eyes as he tries to walk, open the door, get into his house. He goes into the bathroom and locks himself in there. It’s so fucking cold. _So cold_ . There’s no comfort whatsoever. _What is going on_? What is today?

 

In one last effort to stay afloat, Harry calls Gemma.

“H, hi!” Her voice is happy. Harry doesn’t want to end her happiness, but then again, he _needs_ her.

“Gem—” he sobs out her nickname. “Are you— are you s-s-still in town?”

“I’m- I’m at the airport, Harry, what is going on?” Her voice changes now. She’s worried. Good. She can feel things.

Can Harry still feel things?

Maybe.

He’s crying, isn’t he?

“I don’t have a job.” Harry manages to say in one sentence. “Also: Louis is gone.”

“ _What?_ What do you mean Louis is gone, Harry? We-”

“Louis’ gone, Gemma, _Louis is gone. He’s gone. He’s gone._ _He’s gone._ _He’s gone._ ” He keeps saying it, whispering it.

Gemma talks to him and says she’s on her way? Something like that, he’s sure, but it doesn’t really matter. _He’s gone._ _He’s gone._ _He’s gone._ _He’s gone._ He whispers it. His mind screams it.

_I’ve never met any Louis Parker. He’s gone. I’ve never met any Louis Parker. He’s gone._

_I’ve never met any Louis Parker. He’s gone._ _I’ve never met any Louis Parker. He’s gone._

 _I’ve never met any Louis Parker. He’s gone._ _I’ve never met any Louis Parker. He’s gone._

 

And it’s cold. It’s so, so cold. _He’s_ so cold.

Harry thinks he’s going to pass out now.

_I’ve never met any Louis Parker. He’s gone._

  
  
  
  



	2. PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never :}  
> Hope you enjoy it!

 

 

Eventually, Harry manages to get up from the floor. Not by himself, mind. Slowly, Gemma’s voice gets a bit louder in his mind and he starts to process that she’s knelt right in front of him, begging him to react and at least  _ look _ at her. It’s difficult, but his eyes focus on his sister. She’s there, she’s right there, holding his hands. She gets up first, then she helps him. 

Legs. Harry has perfect legs and feet, and they’re stretched and they are serving their purpose of keeping him up; all right, he can hold his own weight now. That’s gotta be progress.

“Harry, I need you to wash your face for me, please.” His sister says calmly. Or maybe she isn’t. Maybe she’s super nervous, but everything is in slow motion for him. “ _H,_ _please_.”

“Don’t call me that.” He snaps at her, furiously.  _ What the fuck, where did that come from? _

“I-” She stops. “Please, wash your face.” And then turns on the tap.

Harry bends down and cups both of his hands together under the water, focused on doing the task at hand. He’s good at it. He’s taking one thing at a time. 

He washes his face and turns off the tap by himself. Then, he looks at Gemma, waiting for instructions. Probably knowing this is exactly what he needs, she speaks next.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your bedroom, yeah?”

“No.” He answers. “No, not my bedroom.”

“Living room, then?” She frowns. Harry nods.

 

They sit in silence for what it feels like a long time, but it might not be a long time at all. Maybe Harry’s mind is just really fucked up. He goes over the weekend, he goes over last night. How Louis fucked him at different paces, in different positions; how he held him extra tight and how he whispered words of love to Harry. 

_ Love _ . The concept is rather simple, and you think you’ve got it down to a T, because, at the end of the day, everyone knows how to deal with love.  _ “When you love someone, you just know.”  _ The sentence is a cliche, because it’s true. Because from the second you lay eyes on a person, and that person looks back at you with the exact same intensity,  _ you know. _

No one ever teaches you how to deal with the  _ lack _ of love, though. No one prepares you for the loneliness, for that drowning feeling even when you’re nowhere near water. No one tells you that when you grow up your heart’s going to shatter into a million pieces, because no one likes to even  _ think _ about the possibility of not having love. And Harry understands that. Right now, not having  _ love _ , not having  _ his _ love feels like not having a life worth living. And he doesn’t even know where or how to start again.

 

“How did this happen?” Gemma asks, at some point. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Did he give you any signs?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was he-”

“ _ Gemma _ ,” Harry stares into her eyes, tears threatening to spill again. “I. Don’t. Know.” He breathes out. “I went to sleep with my boyfriend, I- he told me he  _ loved _ me, he told me he’d love me forever? And then I wake up and he- he’s not here. I get out of bed and I can’t see him, his clothes, his shoes or his fucking toothbrush. Everything is gone. From the cereal to-” And there comes the crying again. “To all of our pictures. Everything is  _ gone,  _ Gems.” He sniffles. 

“Did you try his apartment?”

“His landlord says he’s never met a Louis Parker.” His voice is just as flat as a Google translator robot when he replies.

Gemma’s on her phone for a few seconds before speaking again.

“All of his social media is gone too.” She looks at him, and she’s baffled.

“And his number has been discontinued.” He says. “He- he erased himself from my life. I think this is what hurts the most.”

“Oh, baby brother…” Gemma scoots closer on the couch and gives him a hug. “You’re okay, you’re going to be okay.” 

He’s never doubted his sister, but today he finds out that there  _ is _ a first time for everything.

 

-

 

His sleep is turbulent. He wakes up every half hour, it seems, and he’s never in a comfortable position. He’s vaguely aware that Gemma doesn’t leave, and she’s the one to soothe him back to sleep every time; it’s like she’s never closing her eyes. He’s extremely thankful for her.

When he wakes up on Tuesday, at seven in the morning, he knows what he has to do. 

Firstly, he thickly swallows a cup of coffee and refuses to eat anything otherwise he is going to throw up. Gemma confesses that Tom is still in town, because he couldn’t leave the city either, and asks if it’s okay if he joins them at Harry’s apartment.

“I’m not staying here.” He decides. “I have to- school.”

“Harry, what?”

“I’m going to the school. I need to know if he at least gave them  _ notice _ …? I don’t fucking know.” He snorts.

“You need to be sure.” She looks at him understandingly.

“I need to be sure.” He takes a deep breath.

“What about your job?”

“I don’t- I don’t care?”

“H, this must be-”

“ _ Gemma _ , for the love of God, stop calling me this.” It’s painful. It’s fucking ripping him apart. “Just- at least for a while, can you not call me any of the pet names that Lou- that  _ he _ did?” There must be something in his eyes, because she simply nods and hands him the car keys.

Harry tells her to invite Tom to the apartment, they’re welcome to stay for as long as they want, since he’s not about to refuse company. He doesn’t trust himself to be alone. He promises his sister that he is going to be home by the end of the day, and she believes him.

 

He doesn’t really know how he drives to the school; his instincts probably kick in, he supposes. Harry parks the car right outside, and makes his way into the cafeteria, knowing it’s the quickest route to get to the principal’s office. But he never makes it there. It’s almost lunchtime, so everyone’s already here, and, the second they see him, they start to talk over one another, asking Harry about  _ Mr. Parker. _

From the lunch lady to the oldest student, no one understands why Louis handed in his letter of resignation. No one knows what happened for him to just leave; they want Harry to give them answers, they want him to tell him if Louis is okay, if something happened, if it was something they did.

Harry snorts at that, really loudly and really impolitely. If they only knew.

“I don- don’t. I don’t know.” He says finally, looking at everyone. It’s a group of six people. “I came here to- uh. To talk to Simon. Is he around?”

“He’s in his office, Harry, I can take you there.” Patrick says. Patrick is the star of the team. In only a week and a half, he might even get offered a scholarship. That is, if they manage to play the game. 

“Please.” Harry goes for a smile, but is sure a grimace is what comes out.

They walk silently, Patrick somehow sensing that Harry doesn’t have the answers he is looking for. Only when they get to Simon’s door does the boy clear his throat.

“I’m scared I won’t know how to play without him there, Harry.” He whispers. “I don’t know what happened and honestly at the moment I do not care, I’m just- I’m really scared without him.” The boy looks down.

Harry hugs Patrick.

“That makes both of us, buddy.” He chuckles, eyes wet. “Would it make a difference if I was there?”

Patrick looks at him, suddenly struck by the realization that Louis not only left the school, but left Harry too. Thankfully, he doesn’t dig into that. Instead, he opens a smile to answer Harry’s question.

“It’d make all the difference in the world. We need a chaperone for an away game.”

“Count me in, then.”

“Thanks, Harry.” He smiles again.

“You’re welcome.” Harry sighs, knocks on the principal’s door. “I’m going in.”

“Good luck.” Patrick says before walking away.

 

It’s like Simon was waiting for him, since he doesn’t even look surprised to see Harry there. He readjusts himself on his chair and welcomes him into his office. Simon was never a smiley person, but he looks even  _ more _ serious.

Harry’s not trying to give Louis  _ more _ importance than what he actually has, it’s just that it’s  _ undeniable _ the fact that he has a quality to him that very few people on earth do: he makes everyone happy, and when he’s not here, everyone is a little sadder. Sadistically enough, at the same time that it’s reassuring to know that he isn’t the only one who’s suffering this loss, it also makes him almost…  _ Glad _ that he is the one who’s suffering the most. Because Harry loved… Harry  _ loves _ Louis the most.

And Louis hasn’t died. At least Harry believes (prays and begs the universe) that he hasn’t died. Louis has disappeared. He has ghosted each and every person in this town. Which is absolutely not fine, but the pain is overtaking the madness now.

“Styles.” Simon speaks first. “I take it you don’t know what happened to Parker either.”

“No, Sir.” He replies. “I actually came here to try and get some answers.” And confesses.

“Well. I’m afraid I’m not much help.” Then, Simon turns the laptop screen towards Harry. There’s an email there. And email from Louis.

_ Simon, _

_ While working at your school has been a great pleasure in my life, I am afraid my time there has come to an end. Don’t worry, I won’t ask for any money by leaving. Tell my boys good luck and that I’ll miss them. Thank the staff for me. My former letter of resignation is the PDF attached to this email. _

_ Thanks for some amazing months. _

_ Louis. _

 

It’s not impersonal, per se, but it doesn’t really explain anything. Harry reads it over and over again, looking for some clues Louis might have left, but there is absolutely nothing there. He came. He saw. He left. 

“Are you okay, Styles?”

“No.” Harry manages to reply. “No, I’m really not.”

Simon doesn’t rush him to leave; he lets Harry sit there for a good thirty minutes, head cradled in his hands, staring almost catatonically at the screen. When he finally makes it to leave, the principal makes sure to tell Harry he’ll keep in touch with him, in case Louis sends some news. By the looks of it, though, Louis won’t be sending anything to anyone, maybe ever again.

Harry walks the hallways of the school and everything hurts. He remembers it all.

 

**_FIFTEEN MONTHS AGO - JANUARY 2018_ **

 

“Are you sure it is okay for me to come?” Harry asks him for the umpteenth time. They only met three months ago and are barely official. Well. Harry is pretty official when it comes to Louis, can’t even think of anyone else since the first time he laid sober eyes on him, but he doesn’t know much about the man other than he’s hot and a baseball coach.

“Yes, Harry, it is. This is not your typical baseball team, there’s a gay guy in it and everything. Everyone is super inclusive.” Louis reassures him just as they’re entering the school.

“And this game, is it important?”

“Kind of. They’re already safe for next round, but it’s always nice to win.” He winks. “Plus, they can’t make their coach look bad when his crush’s gonna be in the stands.”

“Uuhhh, are you saying you have a  _ crush _ on lil’ old me?” Harry smiles coyly.

“The biggest.” Louis assures him, kissing his cheeks. “Well. This is me.” He stops at the locker room. “Actually, come here…” He pulls Harry by the hand and takes him towards a hot guy, standing against a wall a couple feet from them.

“Louis.” The guy says. He looks so, so good. Harry would be more impressed by his beauty hadn’t he met Louis first.

“Zayn.” Louis sighs. “Hazz, this is Zayn, he is… An old friend. He sometimes comes to the games.” He explains. “Zayn, this is Harry.”

“Pleasure to meet you, man,” Zayn stretches out his hands to Harry.

“Yeah, you too.” He answers, hand squeezed tight in Zayn’s long fingers.

“Will you take care of my boy for a while? Kinda need to get the team going.” Louis says, vibrant voice, vibrant eyes.

“Eh- I’ll think about it.” His friend jokes, then looks at Harry. “C’mon, Harry, I’ll tell you embarrassing  _ baby Louis _ stories.” He winks.

“Oh my!” Louis closes his eyes, realizing the mistake he’s made.

“I can’t wait.” Harry smiles so hard he’s sure his dimples are popping. Louis kisses the corner of his mouth and lets him go, waving at him and Zayn as they walk together towards a good spot in the stands.

This moment is important, Harry thinks. This is the moment he is meeting one of Louis’ oldest friends, and you don’t introduce  _ just anyone _ to one of your oldest friends, right? Harry certainly doesn’t.

During his teenage years and even when he went to college, he was never one to kiss and tell. Or, well, he  _ would _ tell, but only his closest friends, when somebody asked him, usually. He didn’t like spreading the word that he was hooking up with A or B, and he certainly didn’t like to introduce unimportant people to his friends. 

He remembers he used to go to bars and his friends would bring different people in different weeks, and that was just weird to him. He valued his friendships enough to want to be with just them and no one else. For him to actually bring someone to meet them, that person had to be special, or, at least, Harry needed to see some kind of future with them. He doesn’t know if Louis is the same. Maybe Louis is the kind of person who introduces  _ hook ups  _ to best friends. But  Harry really hopes he isn’t just that.

 

Harry  _ likes _ Louis. He more than likes Louis, hasn’t  _ stopped _ thinking about Louis over the last three months, and he is fairly sure he is falling in love. When he sees him enter the field, he’s sure his eyes light up, because Zayn, who doesn’t speak more than what’s necessary, bumps shoulders with him and says:  _ “You’re a goner, aren’t you, dude?” _ , and Harry nods, proudly even. Lucky for him, Zayn smiles, and tells him that he is not alone in that — it’s pretty mutual.

 

The game itself isn’t bad. For an American, Harry actually doesn’t understand much of baseball, he’s more of a football guy, a game that Louis seems to abhor. Still, he knows how things should work on a good match, and this looks like a good match to him.

The crowd cheers every now and then, and Louis always turns his head around, his eyes searching for Harry, checking if he’s still there, if he’s cheering. And how could Harry not be?

It’s been three months.  _ Three months.  _ He knows next to nothing about this guy. And yet Harry has a feeling that he’ll be cheering Louis on for the rest of time. 

 

When the game ends, Zayn tells Harry to follow him, saying he’ll bring him back to Louis.

“You know, I can see why Louis likes you.” Zayn comments.

“Yeah?”  _ He likes me!!! _

“Yeah, dude. You guys are good together.”

“Thanks,” Harry looks down, cheeks heating up. “I think so too.”

They walk side by side in silence, and when they get there Zayn excuses himself to smoke another cigarette. In the meantime, Louis appears, cheeks redder than before, hair a bit wet, stuck to his forehead, even in winter. He looks so jovial that one would mistake him for a player if they didn’t know better.

Louis jumps in Harry’s arms and like in a movie scene, Harry is ready for it. He spins Louis in the air and whispers in his hair how amazing it was.

“I’m so happy we didn’t suck today.” He confesses.

“Well,  _ you _ did suck today, if I’m not mistaken…” Harry jokes.

“You,” Louis touches his chest with his forefinger, “are absolutely horrible. Where’s Zaynie?” He asks, looking around. “Oh! Nasty habit, that.”

“Yeah, I’m actually glad you don’t smoke.” 

“I used to, like- up until a year or so ago. Gave it up.” His eyes are honest when he says that.

“Good. Want you to live a long time.” Harry gets closer to him, fingers brushing his fringe. “Can I get a kiss?”

“I’mma think about-” He kisses Louis’ mouth shut.

It’s quick and chaste and it warms Harry up nonetheless.

Zayn approaches them right after.

“So, I’m gonna head out, things seem… Good here.” He comments, eyeing between Louis and Harry.

“It was nice to meet you.” Harry says politely.

“You too, we should grab a beer sometime, not on a weekday, preferably.”

“We will. Now, bye.” Louis pushes Zayn away. His friend chuckles and waves again, laughing. “You alright?”

“Peachy.” He says honestly. “Zayn makes me a bit nervous, but I like him? ’S weird.” 

“I get the feeling, trust me.” The man replies. “So…” He holds the lapels of Harry’s jacket. “The guys on the team wanna know who I was staring at during Greg’s foul… I sort of… Promised them I’d introduce them to my- my boyfriend.” Louis takes a deep breath. Harry holds his. “But there’s this slight problem that- you know, I haven’t really  _ asked _ the guy if he  _ wants  _ to-”

“Yes.” Again, Harry cuts his sentence short. “Just-  _ yes _ .” He says way too fast, holding Louis’ cheeks in his palms and kissing him three times straight.

“Lemme ask!” Louis whines stubbornly and pushes him away a bit.

“Ugh, alright.”

“Harry Styles, will you be my boyfriend?” He all but rolls his eyes, trying to play it cool. His cheeks are red, one more time, but now it’s not because of the game.

“Yes, Louis Parker. It’ll be my honor.” And then he kisses him again.

 

Together, and holding hands, they wait for the boys to come out of the locker room. Not everyone does, but five or six students who are closer to Louis come shake his hand, thank him for putting  _ Coach _ in such great mood, and hope to see him more often. On a whim, Harry promises to bake them  _ fit muffins _ for next practice. He’d feel stupid if it weren’t for Louis’ hand squeezing his waist and Louis’ lips finding their way to his cheeks.

 

**_PRESENT DAY - APRIL 2019_ **

 

The most recent picture on the mural is from the day Louis took the team to the city hospital’s cancer wing. They’re all standing there with stuffed animals in hands, painted faces and smiley children. Louis is there. Louis is  _ there _ . But he’s not here anymore.

 

-

 

As soon as he gets home, he notices Gemma has been cooking and Tom… Has been packing. 

“What’s this?” He frowns, asking his sister what is going on.

“I’m making us something to eat before our flights. Tom’s just finishing up with your suitcases.”

“He- what?” 

“Bought you a plane ticket, you’re going back home.” She lets him know.

“Gemma, I don’t wanna go back to  _ Montana _ .” He spits out the word. Different from Gemma, who always dreamed of growing up and getting old back home, Harry’s always wanted to  _ leave _ that place. Ironically enough, she is the one living in sunny Miami due to her future husband’s job, and he’s the one who’s single, unemployed, apparently going back there.

“It’s not about  _ Montana _ , it’s about  _ Mom _ , Harry.”

“It’ll do you good. Just for a bit.” Tom intervenes. Harry simply stares at him, emotionless. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, man.” He says genuinely.

“So am I.” Harry grimaces. “I- I guess a week or so at Mom’s will do me good.”

“Anne’s cooking heals everything.” His sister’s fiancé says.

“True that.” He agrees.

Gemma turns off the stove and turns around, looks intently at him, as if she’s trying to work up the courage to ask him something. Finally, she manages to gather it, because she does speak up.

“Do you regret it?” She asks cautiously. 

“What?”

“I don’t know… Everything.”

Harry is quiet for a long time. He fish-mouths at least three times before responding. And then:

“Just because he isn’t here right now it doesn’t mean he wasn’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He decides. “Because he was.”

And no matter how much Louis tried to erase it, he still is. Which is what hurts the most, at the end of the day.

 

_ - _

 

Going home is hard. The three and a half hours he spends by himself on the plane are excruciating. What keeps him sane is knowing that his mother is going to be at the airport, ready to have him there.

Harry can’t sleep. He took a couple of pills before boarding, but the second he sits there, all he can think about is that a year ago he was going home with  _ Louis _ . It was Louis’ first time in Montana, meeting his family in person, not on some iPad screen. Louis was so, so nervous, a far cry from the usually calm and collected man Harry knew.

He is trying not to remember it. He’s trying not to think of how tight his grip was in Louis’ hand that day; how that was the first time Harry was the one comforting and calming him down; how they’d been together for five months already and how it seemed it would never end.

Harry is trying not to remember Louis’ Easter shopping and his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked at pictures of Harry’s relatives, focusing on memorizing all their names before they met. Harry’s trying not to remember how he kissed his pout away just before they landed.

When someone enters your life the way Louis entered Harry’s, maybe it is to be expected that they will leave just like that. Still, the bile in his throat ready to be thrown up never fails to surprise him whenever the thinks about their beginning. But he’s not going to dwell on it now. Now, he is going to listen to music. Preferably something obscure.

 

-

 

“My baby!” Anne squeezes him in her arms, a hand caressing his hair in a sort of comforting way.

“Hi, Mom.” He whispers in her neck.

“How was the flight?”

“Was alright.”

“How are you feeling?”

“‘M okay.”

“Harry…”

“Not here, Mom. Let’s go, yeah?” He asks, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

“Sure, yes, the car’s not too far.”

They walk side by side to the airport parking lot, and Harry doesn’t utter a word, but lets his mom talk about his stepdad, the neighbors and the flowers. It’s like she’s filling the silence trying to fill a hole.

Gemma is a worrier, Anne is too, but she’s more of a talker than his sister. Anne thinks that if she keeps his mind busy enough, then he won’t have time to suffer. Which is why as soon as they get home, they drop Harry’s bag in his room and then they’re out again.

Apparently they have a lot of shopping to do to the next few days, and even though Easter isn’t for two weeks, Anne needs to prepare everything in advance. She doesn’t, she really doesn’t, but Harry goes along with it. He  _ can’t _ think of Louis anymore. He just… Can’t.

 

“Do we go pink this year?” Anne asks, holding a bunny for Harry to see. 

There are no kids in the family anymore, but she still does treasure hunts, because Alice (Harry’s childhood best friend) has a three year old, and they always show up to say  _ hi _ after lunch. 

“I think we should go pink this year.” He smiles.

“Ethan won’t mind, will he?”

“He’s three, Mom,” Harry chuckles, “Plus, let’s not give in to gender norms.”

“You’re right.” Anne smiles. “Let’s go pink!”

So, they go pink. Anne does what she can to cheer him up during their shopping session and she’s mostly successful, Harry almost forgets why he’s here after all.

When they get back home, Robin — Harry’s stepfather — is already there, and something smells great in the kitchen. Robin says he’s cooking Harry the cure to all breakups, and Harry doesn’t really believe him, but smiles nonetheless. The conversation is small and meaningless and just what he needs right now. Both his mother and Robin are walking on eggshells around him, and he pretends he doesn’t notice when Anne goes to the other room to take a call, probably from Gemma, checking up on him.

Robin updates Harry on his last few months of work and how excited he is to retire, ready to take Anne away for a bit. They’ve always wanted to do some traveling together around Europe, and now’s a good time as ever, since neither of them is going to be working.  

As Robin mentions work, or, well, the  _ lack _ of it, Harry’s face sort of crumples, and for the first time since he realized Louis was gone, he also worries about not having a living anymore. Sure, he’s got savings, but that won’t last for long. And it’s not like he can give up his apartment in Chicago and come back to his parents’ house to wallow in his own misery. Oh, but does he want to!

 

-

 

**_TWELVE MONTHS AGO - APRIL 2018_ **

 

“I think that went alright, yeah?” Louis asks him worriedly as they enter Harry’s childhood bedroom. 

Harry drops their bags on the bed and pulls Louis in by the waist.

“Yes, Lou, that went alright.” He all but rolls his eyes, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend.

“I just- I feel weird. I want them to like me, which’s not a common thing for me to care about, if you haven’t noticed.” Louis confesses, slinging his arms around Harry’s neck.

And it’s true.

Harry has known Louis for six months or so now, and he’s never seen him care about someone liking him this much. Louis handles most people as if they were unimportant. It’s not his best feature, see, especially because Harry is the absolute opposite, but that’s just how he is wired.

He doesn’t really mind whether someone thinks he’s charming, easygoing and just  _ nice _ . The people in Louis’ life all have their own striking personalities — like Zayn — which is maybe why they fit so well with the man. Harry sometimes feels like he’s the luckiest man in the world for having such an incredible, amazing boyfriend. 

Harry has never been one to deprecate himself, no. But he does know that Louis is too much for him, too out of his league; Harry doesn’t really understand what this man saw in him, but he thanks his lucky stars each and every day for having found Louis.

“My family will love you, because  _ I _ love you. And I’ve never loved anyone before you.” He says, nuzzling into Louis’ neck.

“Hazz…” His boyfriend melts in his arms.

“And I never wanna love anyone after you either.” He whispers in Louis’ ear.

“I love you.” Louis kisses him, backing him against the wall. “And I’ll love your family just as much. I just know it.”

“Even Gemma?” Harry chuckles.

“Especially Gemma.” He replies and pinches Harry’s forearm. “C’mon, we gotta go downstairs so Anne can grill me some more…”

“She won’t do it!” 

“She will, and it’s okay,” Louis speaks already opening the door. “You’re worth it.” He gives Harry a million dollar smile, and, really, Harry just needs to kiss him one more time.

 

**_PRESENT DAY - APRIL 2019_ **

  
  


Easter Sunday comes way too early for Harry’s liking. The last two weeks have been difficult, a process. 

The first day he got up by himself, three days into being at his mom’s, he decided to actually eat something for breakfast and then go for a run around the block. He made it just fine, and when he came back and took a shower  _ willingly _ , his mother gave him an approving smile and a chocolate muffin.

People say that when they’re sad, they don’t really want to do anything, and it’s true, mostly. There is one thing Harry does a  _ lot _ when he’s sad. He cleans. So, five days into being at his mom’s, he sends her and Robbin away for the day, and starts cleaning the house. It takes him six hours to dust and wash and polish everything, but, when night time comes, at least he’s tired enough to fall asleep before crying.

He does wake up from a nightmare, though. But nightmares are a recurrent thing. The only difference is that on the fifth night it’s not Anne that wakes him up from his whimpering; it’s Robin.

“Harry, bud, you’re okay, wake up.” His stepfather shakes him, dragging him out of his misery, bringing him to a new one.

“Fuck.” Harry rolls on his back, sweating like crazy, shirt sticking to his chest. You see, Harry used to sleep only in his pants, but lately he’s been feeling so, so cold. “ _ Fuck, _ ” he says, once again. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Harry. You’re okay.” Robin repeats, patting him on the shoulder. “Here, drink some water,” his stepfather hands him the glass from his nightstand. 

Harry gulps the water faster than he should and ends up coughing too hard and too loud. He doesn’t realize when he starts crying. Robin hugs him strongly, and, eventually, Anne shows up at his bedroom door.

“Oh, baby…” She runs to the bed, sitting on the other side. Harry lets her run her fingers through his hair, but isn’t strong enough to lift his head from Robin’s shoulder.

He feels small, and useless, and bottomline  _ ridiculous _ .

He can’t believe he’s twenty-six and crying in his childhood bed, with both his mother and his stepfather taking care of him — or, at least, doing their best to. They’re not succeeding. But then again, it’s not their fault. Harry’s broken beyond repair now.

It takes a few minutes, but his breathing regulates once again.

“I’m… I’m alright.” He says.

“Oh, Harry.” Now Anne physically pulls him into her, hugging him tight.

“Sometimes,” Harry pauses. “Sometimes I think I hallucinated him. That he was nothing but an illusion. That I loved a hologram. Or that I’m schizophrenic.” He whispers into the dark.

“You aren’t, Harry. Louis existed.  _ Exists _ . You love a real person.” His mother tells him.

“ _ We _ ,” Robin corrects. “We all got to love him. You’re not deluded, Son.” The man says.

“I have to be, I mean- how-”

“Harry.” His stepdad holds him by the shoulders, looks at him seriously. “We don’t know what happened to Louis. And we might  _ never _ know.” He says. “It is not going to be easy to make peace with that. So maybe it’d be healthy to look for a therapist in Chicago, to help you… Grieve him.”

“He’s not dead.” Harry says.

“He might as well be.” Anne cries out, but quietly, too scared to hurt him even further.

She’s right.

_ He might as well be. _

 

On the eighth day Harry is there, Gemma  _ facetimes _ him. She beats around bushes for about ten minutes, until he finally tells her that it’s  _ okay _ to talk about wedding plans; it’s not because his relationship was a total failure that he will ignore the fact that his sister’s getting married in about three months. 

On the eighth day they talk for hours on end. Gemma walks him through every little detail she’s preparing and Harry is excited to help her. He even offers to send out the e-vites, though there won’t be many. It’s still a boat party, only for friends and family. It’ll be glorious.

(Harry thinks back to the day at the bar when they told Louis about the idea; he remembers not giving much attention to it, but thinking, at the time, that Louis was sort of hiding something. Did he know he was going to leave? Had he been planning it for a long time? Just as Robin said: Harry might never know.)

 

On the tenth day, Harry receives an unexpected call. 

“Hello?” He answers the phone. He says it three more times.

_ “Is this Harry?”  _ That voice. Harry  _ knows _ that voice.

“Yes. Zayn?”

_ “Harry, are you okay?” _ Zayn asks.

“Zayn- what— why are you-”

_ “Are you safe? Can you tell me where you are? If you’re okay?” _

“I’m at my mom’s, Zayn. I’m in fucking Montana and  _ no _ , of fucking course I’m not fucking okay, now why are you-”

And then the line goes dead.

Harry tries calling it back for the next three days, but the number doesn’t exist anymore.

On the tenth day, Harry dehydrates due to so much crying.

But on day nine, he runs again.

He runs and he cooks and he cleans. He even starts reading.

He receives an email warning him that he needs to be in Chicago next Wednesday for a deposition, about Roger — his former boss, who’s in jail now. Harry’s dreading going back there, for more reasons than one.

So, when Easter Sunday arrives, it just feels like it’s  _ way _ too early.

Easter Sunday means that tomorrow he will have to get on a plane and go back to Chicago. He’ll have to enter that apartment and see the emptiness of it all.

Harry doesn’t even have anybody to crash with, since all of his friends are here, in this small town or scattered around the United States, and his sister is in Florida, and Louis is… Louis is nowhere to be found.

 

“ETHAN, LOOK WHO’S THERE!” He hears Alice scream.

“Uncle Harry!!!!” Then, there’s a three year old running towards him.

“My loooooove,” Harry falls to his knees, opening his arms for his godson to hug him properly. “I missed you, I even missed your  _ smell _ .” He jokes.

Ethan laughs loud.

“Silly!” He accuses Harry.

“Just a tiiiiny bit.” Harry agrees. “Let me get up, talk to your mom properly.” He says and makes sure Ethan’s standing on his feet (and then sort of running away) to actually get up. “A! You look incredible.”

“Yeah, and you look like shit.” She punches his chest weakly.

“Yeah, alright, I know.” Harry looks down. Alice hugs him. “Missed you,” he confesses, hugging her back.

“Missed you too.” She tightens her arms around his waist.

“How long am I gonna be third wheeling for my wife and our best friend?” Josh fake-complains. Harry laughs.

Harry was never Josh’s closest friend, but they found out they had a lot in common after Josh started dating Alice during senior year, and they were sort of obligated to hang out.

“Hi, man.” Harry hugs him as well. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” Josh pats his back. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m not.” He shrugs.

“Heeey, course you are,” Alice pinches him. “You’re taking it day by day, aren’t you?”

“I’m trying.” 

“You’ll get there.” Josh assures him.

“Now let’s get inside properly, ‘cause I smell your mom’s cooking and I’m absolutely sure the little terror’s already there pestering her…” His best friend tells him, already going towards the kitchen.

Harry and Josh hang back to talk a bit more in the living room, but, eventually, they’re called up to help too.

 

It’s true, Harry  _ is _ trying, and he does take it day by day.

 

Saying goodbye to his mother is the hardest. Anne doesn’t really want him to go, and, for Harry, it would be easier to stay. But he has things to do. A life to live. Even if it doesn’t seem like it at the moment. He hugs Robin goodbye first, then Anne. It takes her about four minutes to let him go, but, when she does, Harry puts on a brave face, and he promises his mother he  _ will _ be okay. It’s his only choice.

 

-

 

**_PRESENT DAY - MAY 2019_ **

 

It’s on a Friday that Harry’s phone rings again.

It’s another unknown number, so Harry gets excited thinking it’s Zayn.  _ Hoping _ it’s Zayn, wishing for him to give some information on Louis,  _ anything _ really.

 

But it’s not Zayn. 

It’s a man named James Corden, and he offers Harry a job.

“Uh-”

_ “You sent us your resume a few months ago, and we didn’t have a spot for you at the time, but we just lost another partner and we figured now is a good time as ever, for both of us.” _ The man keeps talking, the British accent cutting into Harry’s ear.  _ “I hear Roger’s gonna be in jail for years and you deserve a good job. Word around is that you’re shaping up to be a hell of an attorney.” _

“Uh-”

_ “I do hope you say more than  _ uh _ in court, though.” _ The man jokes.

“I’m sorry, Sir. This is… A surprise.”  _ Especially because I don’t remember sending my resume anywhere _ , Harry thinks. 

_ “A good one, I hope, mate.” _

“Y-yeah, a good one.”

_ “So. When can you move to New York?” _

“Uh-”

_ “For fuck’s sake!”  _ The man exclaims and Harry laughs out loud for the first time in a while.

“I can be in New York by next week, Sir.”

_ “Good. And call me James.” _ His cheerful voice echoes in his ear.  _ “Excited to be working with you, Harry.” _

“Thank you. Thank you  _ a lot _ .” Harry manages to speak. “I’m looking forward to working with you too, Sir.  _ James _ , he corrects himself. 

 

-

 

**_THREE MONTHS AGO - FEBRUARY 2019_ **

 

Harry feels it before he sees it. Well, but of course, his eyes are very much closed, since he was sleeping. What matters is that there’s a hand on his cock and a mouth on his nipple and  _ fuck  _ if this isn’t the best wake up call ever.

Louis lets his tongue play on Harry’s chest as his hand works slowly but surely up and down Harry’s shaft, and all Harry can do is arch his back and move one of his hands up to Louis’ hair, holding his face down until Louis gets the message and bites his nub. Harry moans at that and feels his boyfriend smile growing, and then peppering soft kisses on his chest, neck, jaw, reaching his mouth in little time.

Harry opens up easily, morning breath long forgotten after over a year of this; over a year of  _ Louis _ . It’s their second time spending Harry’s birthday together, the second of many, Harry hopes. Absentmindedly, he smiles into their kiss causing Louis to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Happy birthday, Hazz.” Louis whispers, kissing his cheek, his eyes, his forehead, his nose.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Harry moans at a particular tight stroke on his cock. “The happiest,” he whispers back, then guides Louis’ head down.

“Want your cock in my mouth, Hazz?” He teases. Harry can barely form a word, Louis’ hot breath so close to his head. “Hm?” Then he kitten licks it. 

_ “Fuck me- yes, mouth on me,  _ now. _ ”  _ Harry says. “Please.”

“As you wish, birthday boy.” His boyfriend agrees easily, finally taking Harry into his mouth.

Harry closes his eyes and opens his legs wider, giving Louis all the space he needs to play with his cock and his balls. Eventually, Louis’ fingers find their way to Harry’s hole, and Harry arches his back even more, hungry for it. Always, always hungry for it.

When Louis enters him, both on their sides, he kisses Harry’s neck and tells him that he’s so in love with him he could die. And Harry… Well, Harry gets the feeling. He never wants this to end.

 

**_PRESENT DAY - MAY 2019_ **

 

Harry turns off the lights in his bedroom — now  _ former _ bedroom, and leaves it, holding the last box he has, handing it to the guys from the moving company. He’s putting everything in a storage room, only taking his clothes and few personal items with him to Manhattan.

If Louis wants Harry to forget him, then this is what Harry is going to do.

He needs a brand new start, otherwise he’ll be stuck in the past forever. His phone rings and Harry’s quick to pick up.

_ “Just checking in on you.”  _ Anne defends herself.

“I’m alright, Mom,” he sighs. “I’ll  _ be _ alright.” Harry decides on the truth. “I’m heading for the airport in a bit, my flight’s in three and a half hours.”

_ “Let me know when you’re taking off. And when you land. And when you get to your new apartment, I-” _

“I will, Mom. Trust me.” Harry smiles despite himself. “Talk to you soon.”

_ “Okay, baby. Bye.” _

“Bye, Mom.”

 

Before leaving Chicago, Harry reaches into his pocket and finds a picture of Louis, one he stole from the mural at the school.  _ I don’t know who I’ll be without you. But I hope I will be better than this _ .

He crumples the photo in his hand and leaves it in a trash can at the airport.

He really is starting anew.

 

-

 

Harry’s first few weeks in New York are a whirlwind.

Whether in Minnesota or in Chicago, Harry has always heard bad things about the Big Apple; how everyone’s so busy they barely look you in the eyes, how clerks are impolite and how you’re always almost getting run over by cabs. Still, he decided to give it a chance, and the second he gets there, he finds every thing he’s ever heard to be a lie.

Or, well, not a  _ complete _ lie. Different people have different experiences, after all.

Harry’s apartment is on the Upper West Side, because, believe it or not, his starting salary allows him to afford it. And the best part is that the apartment is spacious enough for himself, but not so big that he feels lonely. His job is only a few metro stations away, and he has the Natural History museum right there for him to visit whenever he wants. Harry figures he’s going to be spending a lot of time there.

His first friend is a florist named Karl, and he and his wife, Justine, let Harry watch their kids sometimes (Zoe and  Zach — very creative, Harry knows), when they need to go on dates. Karl has a flower shop two blocks away from Harry’s place, and he buys at least three plants each month. If Harry ever moves to a bigger place, it will be because the vase plants aren’t enough and he needs a proper garden.

 

People at work are  _ fun _ . Of course they’re still getting to know each other, but Harry likes them a lot more than the ones at his last job. 

There’s James Corden, who’s the British boss, but also Olivia Clark, Nicholas Grimshaw, Alexander Coleman, Jeff Azoff, Kendall Jenner and so on and so forth. Everyone seems to like him rapidly, and Harry likes them a  _ lot _ too. He’s closest to Nick and Kendall, but it might be because they’re the ones who force him to go out on weekends, after he’s properly settled.

One day, after kicking ass in court, Harry thanks both Gemma and, well,  _ Louis _ , mentally, for having obligated him to take the BAR exam for New York too. It paid off. For real.

  
  


-

 

“Harold, tell me, where are we going tonight?” Nick slings an arm over his shoulder on an October evening as he’s just finishing typing an important report for Olivia.

Olivia is second in command to James. She’s great, really. But no one messes with her.

“After I finish this, I’ll go anywhere you want, just-” He moves his shoulder so Nick will let him go. “Who else is coming?”

“Xander, Kendall and her new boyfriend.” His friend lets him know.

“Hm, good. He sounds nice.”

“That’s because you know it was your sister who introduced them.” Nicholas rolls his eyes.

And it’s true.

 

(When July came, so did Gemma’s wedding. Harry had RSVP’ed that he’d be there with a date — his  _ boyfriend _ at the time —, so, when the time came and he was alone, he asked one of his new friends to accompany him to Florida. Kendall offered to go just  _ so _ fast that she almost jumped up from the chair at the time.

There, at Gemma’s boat wedding, Kendall met Max. And as Harry cried his eyes out, by himself, over a champagne flute, Kendall met the man who was going to move states in two months for her. At least she was happy that day. 

Later, when the party was dying down, both Gemma and Tom found him, thanking him for being there.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the  _ world _ , Sis.” Harry hugged her sideways. “Love you both.” Harry smiled and so did Tom at him.

Also, on that day, staring at the ocean, Harry promised himself that he would celebrate this life of his, with or without love.  _ The moon does not need the sun to tell her she is already whole. _ )

 

-

 

They end up at the same bar they always do, because it’s within walking distance from their office, and it’s open almost twenty-four/seven. Harry orders five beers from their regular booth, and thus begins a regular night. 

“Are we singing tonight?” Harry asks.

“Only if you perform with me.” Alexander is the one to reply.

“A man after my own heart.” He puts both hands on his chest, a cheeky smile on his face.

He thinks he hears Xander whisper  _ if only you knew _ under his breath, but decides against dwelling on it. Harry doesn’t need more drama in his life. Not now that he is so… Good.

Harry has made a new life for himself. It does not mean he forgot about his “old” one. It does not mean he doesn’t sit quietly in the dark reveling in the past. It does not mean he is a hundred percent healed. But he is  _ better _ . He smiles at least twice every day; he has friends that aren’t only his childhood ones. His mother has stopped calling every day to check up on him, and Gemma isn’t scared of being happy on the phone with him anymore.

Harry goes out, he parties, he even kisses people from time to time. Once, he almost slept with a guy, but he couldn’t. He doesn’t beat himself up for it, though, because, just like everything else, this is a process, and he knows he will get there, at some point. It’s only been six months and a few days after all.

The most important part is that he’s learned to count his victories now — whether at work or in his personal life, whenever Harry loses, he chooses to look at the bright side. And it’s been working,  _ boy _ , has it been working.

 

“ONE MORE!” Max, Kendall’s boyfriend, yells, with shots in his hands.

“You’re gonna  _ kill _ us!” Nick yells back. He’s completely sloshed, even more than Harry.

“Maybe we can get Harry drunk enough to get some.” Max jokes, and Kendall sips from her  _ cosmo _ , looking apologetically at Harry. Max doesn’t know what Harry went through. But then again, neither does Xander.  _ Louis _ is something that Harry refuses to tell everyone about. Only Kendall and Nick know about it, and, even so, they only know he had a boyfriend in Chicago who left. They don’t know the details; Harry can’t allow himself to think about the details.

 

The alcohol is doing him good. His head’s fuzzy enough that after he sings his second duet with Xander, Harry wants to  _ dance _ . Nick joins him and then a group of girls who are in a bachelorette party appear by his side, and in front of him, and all around. At the end of the night, Harry is going home with a veil and a tiara, and he feels like a princess. It occurs to him that they’d look even more amazing if his hair was long, but he got it cut really short right before moving to New York.

“You sure you don’t need a ride, Harry?” Max checks with him one more time.

“Nah, I’ll flag a cab, it’s alright.”

Harry hugs everyone and thanks Nick for putting him in a taxi. He slurs his address to the cab driver and gives him way too much money when he arrives at his apartment building.

 

-

 

If Harry hadn’t drunk so much, he’d probably notice that something was  _ different _ upon getting to his floor. As he is very much drunk, the crooked mat and the broken door handle don’t give him any indication that something is not right. However,  _ Louis _ , tied down to a chair in the middle of his apartment, and covered in blood  _ everywhere,  _ is a great indication that everything is  _ wrong _ .

And, just like that, Harry is sober again. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,  
> any guesses?


	3. PART III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: I'm sorry it took me forever to update this. I've been writing my thesis for school and it's just... Kinda killing me.  
> Secondly, thanks for your patience.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

  
  


“HARRY, RUN!” Louis screams as soon as he opens his eyes. Or tries to. In the split second Harry actually  _ focuses  _ on Louis’ face, he can see that one eye is completely swollen and the other is bleeding profusely.  _ What. The. Fuck _ .

Harry can’t move, he certainly can’t run, but even if he tried, before Louis can even finish the sentence, someone’s yanking him forwards and throwing him against the wall, closing the door shut and locking it once again. 

There are five people in his apartment: him, Ginger Guy who’s holding him by the neck, Louis, Black Guy who’s pulling Louis’ hair way too strongly, and Super Tall and Really Pasty Dude who is walking around Louis’ chair with a knife in his right hand. Harry can barely process what is going on as it is, but one thing is screaming louder than the fear in his brain:  _ Must. Protect. Louis. _

He tries to get out of the headlock he’s in at the moment, but he can’t even move before he receives a punch to his stomach.

“LET HIM GO.” Louis screams one more time, voice hoarse already. “LET HIM FUCKING GO OR I SWEAR I WILL  _ KILL _ YOU.” Also, he doesn’t sound American.

“SHUT  _ UP! _ ” Super Tall and Really Pasty Dude stabs Louis’ left leg.

Louis screams again. In pain, this time.

Harry doesn’t realize he screams with him. And finally frees himself.

“Lou-” He tries to say and is pulled back again.

This time, Harry remembers the last four months of his self defense class and kicks back, nailing Ginger Guy in the crotch. But, of course, it is a dumb move. Black Guy comes, punches Harry on the cheek, and drags him by the collar of his shirt, sitting him on a chair in front of Louis. Ginger ties his hands while tall, White Dude cuts Louis’ cheek with his sharp knife, blood spilling softly. Louis doesn’t even seem to feel it anymore.

“Now, let’s see if you will talk, William.” Ginger Guy says smugly with the strongest British accent Harry has ever heard.

Tall, White guy turns to Harry with a smaller, sharper-looking knife.

“Don’t you  _ dare,  _ Luke.” Why does Louis sound British too? And why are they calling him William?

“Such a pretty face,” Luke breathes out, his knife almost caressing Harry’s chin. Harry frowns, looks for answers in Louis’ eyes. Louis isn’t even looking at him now. “Wonder what would happen if I pierced it  _ right- here _ .” With that, Harry feels his chin start to hurt.

“ _ Stop it _ ,” Louis says weakly. “I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, just don’t hurt him, Lucas.” He pleads. Then raises his eyes sideways, to the black guy still standing there. “Kyle. I’ll do  _ anything _ , just let him go.” 

Ginger comes and slaps Harry’s face. Just for fun, apparently. Because he  _ laughs _ .

“So. Fucking. Stupid,” he muses. “Such a rookie mistake, Will. You  _ trained  _ me. You were the best we had. And you fell in love on the job.  _ With _ the job.” Ginger laughs, kneeling in front of Louis. Louis spits on his face.

“You’re an embarrassment, Ed. A disappointment.” Louis says, but Harry’s just  _ praying _ for him to shut up. His left leg is already rigid, his arms are tied behind his back, his face is all colors of  _ hurt _ . “And I trained you better than this.”

“You trained me to stay focused on the mission.”

“I trained you not to be a fucking  _ traitor _ .” 

“You’re in no position to speak like that, William.” Black Guy — Kyle — warns him. 

“Hear me out- no, seriously, listen closely…” Louis whispers. “Go fuck yourselves.”

Then,  _ Kyle  _ kicks Harry’s shin.

“ _ FUCK! _ ” Harry roars. It hurts like hell. 

“Harry,  _ look at me _ .” Louis (William?)  _ orders _ . “You are going to be okay.”

“No, he isn’t.” Ed snorts. “Don’t lie now, Will. You’re both screwed.” He starts walking again. “Here’s how this is gonna go: you’ll answer Luke’s questions, and every time you give the wrong answer,  _ Boy Toy _ here’s gonna suffer the consequences. Got it?”

This time, Louis smirks. 

_ Harry _ wants to punch him, so he doesn’t really blame Ed when his closed fist collides with Louis’ cheek. Louis simply spits the blood onto the floor and looks up again.

“One, I don’t answer to Luke. I certainly do not answer to you, a low level agent who is mediocre at best.” He tells Ed. “Now you,” he turns to Kyle. “Out of sheer respect, before I kick your fucking ass, I’m gonna tell you one thing-” Kyle punches his stomach. Louis coughs. Keeps speaking. “They say love knows no bounds. Personally, I don’t know about that,” he sort of shrugs. “I feel like I’ve seen the bounds, and pushed them a couple times.” He receives another punch. Then another. “You know one thing I’ve learned?” Louis sort of asks. He can’t raise his head anymore. Harry’s whole face is wet. He can’t stop crying. And he’s so, so scared. “You can rely on love.” Louis says. “Love sets you free. Quite literally, sometimes.” Harry recognizes… A smile on his voice. “Right, boys?” He asks.

As if on cue, Harry’s window is broken and his apartment door is busted, and then everything happens way too fast.

Someone fires a gun from behind his head hitting Luke and making him fall to the ground. Louis’ good leg kicks Harry’s chair, and Harry falls on his back.

“UNTIE HIM, THEN ME,” Louis screams to no one specifically.

Kyle goes for Harry, but someone is on him. Harry doesn’t know the guy, but he’s just as strong, and pulls Kyle back, punching him to the ground. At the same time, Zayn ( _ ZAYN?  _ His mind screams) crouches down behind him, cutting the cord that is tying his hands and quickly moves on to Louis. Luke starts getting up, one arm shot, and moves towards Louis too. 

“HARRY, GUN.” The guy Harry has never seen screams at him, kicking a gun his way. Harry’s trembling when he picks it up.

Zayn, Louis, Ed and Luke all sort of look the same on the ground, and he doesn’t know what to do.

There’s another loud noise and a blonde woman shows up, takes the gun from him and shoots Luke two more times. Harry falls down on the floor, screaming Louis’ name. Blonde Woman goes for Ed, who’s just tackled Zayn, removing him from Zayn’s back and knocking him out as Zayn helps Louis. Louis opens his eyes one more time and searches for Harry. His gaze wavers. And then his eyes are closed again.

_ “Louis _ .” Harry cries out. Whispers. Screams. He’s not sure. He’s shaking, Zayn is there, and there’s at least  _ one _ person dead in his living room.

“HARRY, look at me.” Another woman, a brunette this time, slaps him a couple of times. “Are you okay?  _ Look at me _ .”

Where did she even come from?

“I’m- I’m okay.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“Okay, let’s move you to-”

“NO.  _ Louis _ .” Harry says. “Take care of Louis.”

“We will, we’ll take him-”

“NO. HERE. LOUIS. NOW.” He doesn’t realize that he’s screaming until the woman smiles just a little bit. 

“Feisty.” She says. “Take Tommo to a bed, I’ll be with him in a bit.” The woman orders other people. There are a lot of people. There are police people, FBI people, and… Others. Some are wearing jackets, some aren’t. But it happens so fast, Harry can barely  _ count _ .

He sees Zayn and Bulky Guy taking Louis’ spent body towards his room and he lets Brunette Lady move him to the couch.

Like in a movie scene, someone comes with a blanket and puts it around his shoulder, but Harry shakes it off. How can he be  _ cold _ now? He’s sweating like an animal, his skin is on fire, and fuck, some parts of his body are burning.

“I’m Doctor Sophia Smith, this is Doctor Jade Thirlwall, she’ll take care of your cuts and bruises while I check on- on our agent. Okay?” Harry nods. “Okay.” Brunette Lady sighs.

“Th-thanks.” He manages to say. Doctor Smith smiles at him before leaving.

He sits there, body heavy against his couch, as Doctor Thirlwall speaks to him softly. Her hands are cold, but soft. She checks his blood pressure, then his stomach, his legs and his arms before going to his face. As he answers some of her questions, the apartment starts to clear up.

Luke, Ed and Kyle are removed at once. Kyle’s the only one who’s awake and walks away in handcuffs, Luke is dead for sure, and Ed… Harry doesn’t know about Ed. Doesn’t care either. 

There are two photographers around. They take pictures of every corner of this room, and Harry thinks this takes about forty minutes, but when they are done, so is everybody else. Jade (how she asked to be called) excuses herself but begs Harry not to move. He doesn’t think he would even if he could. Louis is in the other room.  _ Louis _ . Not  _ his _ Louis, since that is definitely  _ not _ the person Harry knew, but still…  _ Louis _ . And Harry doesn’t know if he’s okay, doesn’t know whether he’s going to be alive or not when he gets in there, so he… He just listens to Jade and stays seated.

During the next fifteen minutes, some new people enter the apartment to fix his busted window. Harry lives on the fifth floor, he has no idea how someone broke in through that. But then again, he has no idea why and how Louis or Zayn could handle guns and are involved with the government. He reckons he dozes off for a bit.

Before, when he was a kid, he could never fall asleep when there was a construction going on. He’d hate his neighbors who decided to have remodeling done during vacation time, because he wound up waking up early anyways. Yet somehow, the noise of people fixing his window and replacing glass doesn’t bother him. It’s better and more comforting than someone he loves screaming in pain due to being stabbed; it’s better than a gunshot noise; it’s better than his heart pounding irregularly against his chest.

 

“Harry…” Someone places a hand on him. He opens his eyes. “I’m Agent Payne. Liam Payne. Can I talk to you for a second?” He asks. He’s the bulky guy who took Kyle out.

“Y-yes.”

“Are you done?” He looks at people by the window and two other young looking people hanging in Harry’s kitchen.

The younger people nod. Window People reply with  _ just about _ .

“Clear the room. Now.” Liam orders. “Close the door on your way out.”

They both watch silently as people move. Harry waves them goodbye. One smiles, or more like laughs, Harry isn’t sure.

As soon as the door is closed, his attention is back on Liam.

“How’s- How’s Louis?” He asks.

“Still passed out, but he’ll be okay. His body endured… A lot, especially over the last two months. He needs his sleep.” The man doesn’t look him in the eyes, but Harry believes his answer.

“I’m very confused.”

“I’m sure you are.” Liam nods. “But now I’m the one who needs answers.” He grimaces.

“I don’t have them.” Harry shrugs.

“When you got in- what was going on?”

“L-Louis? Or, I don’t know,  _ William _ , he- he was tied to a chair, in the middle of my living room.” He doesn’t want to replay the scene in his mind, ever again, but it’s still too recent and he can’t help but see, once again, the pain in Louis’ eyes when he saw Harry entering the apartment. “They made me come in and- and he begged them not to hurt me, but I guess they- they wanted to use me for answers? I honestly  _ don’t know _ , I just-” and then he starts crying.  _ Great. _ “I just wanted him to live. I hadn’t- like. I know you don’t care, but he’s- he was  _ gone _ , okay? And then he was here, and he was hurt, and I-”

“Harry, I know, but I need you to focus.”

“I CAN’T FUCKING FOCUS.” He gets up. His legs hurt a bit, but it’s nothing that he can’t handle. “Would you be able to  _ focus _ if that had just happened to  _ you _ , Agent Payne?” Harry asks. “Fuck’s sake. I need to see Louis.” 

He strides towards his bedroom, and when he gets there, both Jade and Sophia are gathering their things, as Zayn murmurs something on the phone. Upon seeing Harry, though, he hangs up the call.

“Harry.” Zayn calls his name.

“You fucking  _ prick _ ,” Harry says, but doesn’t dare move towards him. “You were around him  _ every little second  _ when we were-” he swallows hard “-together. But you couldn’t be here earlier for this? You had to wait for him to-?” Harry looks at Louis, he wants to cry again.

“Harry.” Zayn says again. “I’m sure you’re very- uh, confused, and angry at the moment, but- I just got off the phone with our boss and you can’t stay here.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Neither of you. We- uh. We can move him, right?” Zayn looks at Sophia.

“After he finishes his blood transfusion, yeah.” She says.

“Agent Malik-” Agent Payne, Liam, starts warning Zayn.

“Don’t you think we’ve put  _ him _ through enough?” He points his head towards Harry. “We can’t brainwash him, Liam. We can’t make him forget what happened-”

“Actually-” Jade starts.

“And we  _ shouldn’t _ .” Zayn completes. “Pack a bag, Harry. Once Louis’ blood transfusion is done, we’re taking you with us.”

“Horan’s gonna go ballistic on you.” Liam declares.

“Let him.” 

 

-

 

They drive for about two hours. Harry notices they’re going towards the countryside, but he doesn’t know exactly where they’re taking him. Agents Smith and Thirlwall are dropped off at an undisclosed location about an hour into the drive, and he stays with Agents Payne and Malik ( _ Fucking Zayn is an Agent!) _ .

“Where are we going?” He dares to ask.

“Stone Ridge.” Liam answers.

Harry looks to the backseat and sees Louis is still out, head on Zayn’s lap.

“How long till the wakes up?” He asks Zayn.

“About five hours, I reckon.”

“Okay.”

 

Five hours.

In five hours Louis will open his eyes.

 

They get to their destination in one hour and fifty-two minutes. Harry counts it, because there is nothing else to do.

He imagined they’d be going to a hotel or a warehouse. He didn’t imagine they’d be stopping at a regular, countryside house, with a white fence and a green front yard. Liam parks the car in the garage and unbuckles his seatbelt. Harry mirrors him and then waits for instructions. Zayn told him not to do anything without asking or being told first. 

Liam, ever so carefully, removes Louis from the car, carrying him bridal style. Zayn tells Harry to get out too, and together they walk with their bags to the front door. Upon unlocking it, Zayn lets Liam go first, and the agent places Louis on the couch. Harry drops the bags by Louis’ side, and sits in an armchair next to him. Liam moves quickly to the kitchen as Zayn gets closer.

“Liam’s heading for the supermarket to buy a few things for the house. Need anything special?” 

“No. Thanks, Agent Malik.”

“Harry.”

“ _ Don’t _ .” Harry squeezes his eyes, looking at Zayn angrily. “You called me months ago. I  _ knew  _ it was you, you didn’t even deny it. Were you checking up on me? Why?”

“I was looking for him.” Zayn whispers.

“What?”

“He went missing a few months ago. The agency- we,  _ his friends _ , had no idea where he was.” He murmurs the words as if he’s afraid someone else is listening. It’s like he knows he shouldn’t be saying them, but he can’t keep them inside. “I figured that the first place he’d go would be… Well, not a place, but- you.”

“Why?”

“ _ Why? _ ” The agent chuckles. “I can’t tell you much, but- he is known at the agency now as  _ The Rogue _ . Because he broke a thousand rules for you.” He gets up, places a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have to like me, Styles. Hell,  _ he _ barely likes me at times. But you should go easy on him.” Zayn winks. “I’ll take your bags upstairs. You might wanna freshen up, take a shower-” he checks his watch. “He won’t be up for a couple hours still.”

Harry simply nods and follows instructions.

 

He takes a lingering look at Louis before getting up. His face hurts a bit, but it’s nothing that can’t be controlled with medicine. Harry goes up to his suite — which Zayn points out to him —, and starts rummaging through his clothes, looking for something comfy. It seems like he’s going to be here for a long time. Harry finds black joggers and a lavender sweater, and smiles at himself for even remembering to bring them — they’re some of his favorite garments.

Going into the bathroom and looking at the mirror for the first time is a shock. His hair’s all mussed up and he has a purple bruise under his right eye (nothing like the ones Louis has, but a bruise nonetheless). His bottom lip is cut (he has no idea how  _ this _ happened; maybe it was his own teeth) and his chin is too, but this one he remembers all too well.

Harry is pleasantly surprised to find a bathtub there, but for now he decides on a quick shower; he wants to be near when Louis wakes up. He turns on the tap and thanks God for the hot water that comes out of it almost instantly. He undresses slowly, and when he finally gets under the shower head, his whole body  _ screams _ and  _ twists _ and goes pliant at the same time. He moans as he throws his head back, face to the water, hissing only a bit when the hot water hits his cuts and bruises.

Slowly, he cleans himself up and washes his hair. He cries in silence for a few minutes, then steps out. It’s hard, taking everything in. Even though he thinks he’s got a pretty good read on the situation, and both Zayn and Liam cleared up (very few) things for him, Harry still needs to hear some stuff from Louis. He needs to know if his  _ name _ is Louis. Or William. Or  _ Tommo _ . He needs to know where  _ Parker _ came from and  _ what the fuck _ he was doing with Harry if he is some kind of agent. He doesn’t even know what  _ agency _ Louis works for, seeing as more than one was at Harry’s apartment earlier.

It was one thirty a.m. when Harry stepped into his apartment and, once again, his life changed completely in the span of minutes. Now it’s eight in the morning and the sun is out. Harry doesn’t even remember watching the sun rise. God, he’s tired. He’s extremely exhausted, but he can’t put himself to sleep. Not now. Not yet.

 

He dresses himself up, brushes his teeth, and cries a bit more.

It’s almost nine when he leaves the bedroom and goes back to the living room. Liam offers him some coffee, and he takes it willingly. They exchange a few words, but nothing that matters.  _ Nothing really matters now _ .

 

Harry sits and Harry waits.

At nine fifteen, precisely, Louis wakes up.

“I smell coffee.” Are his first three words.

“Fuck.” Harry curses and Harry cries.  _ Fuck _ . Louis is here. Louis is awake.

“Tommo, are you alright?” Zayn kneels by his side.

“Harry. Where’s Harry?” He turns his head. “Harry.” Then he breathes out, a tear escapes his right eye. Louis takes a deep breath and sighs.

“Hi.” Harry croaks out.

“Tommo-” Liam says. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” He replies, still looking at Harry. “How’s-”

“Luke’s dead.” Zayn tells him.

“Who-”

“Agent Edwards. She was in and out.” Liam responds. “I took out Kyle. Zayn got Ed. Both are alive.”

Louis closes his eyes. He seems tired.

“Liam- you shouldn’t be here.” The man finally says.

“Needed to see you awake, you dumbass.” For the first time, Harry sees Liam smile. Louis tries, but can’t quite form a smile yet. “We’ll go soon. Right?” He looks at Zayn.

“Right.” Zayn replies, resigned. 

“Why are we here and not-?”

“Harry refused to let us take you. We figured here would be a good spot for both of you.” Agent Malik continues before Louis can finish his question. “Harry has the schedule for your meds and- you just need to be on fluids and stuff.”

“They’re gonna let me stay here, with him?” He asks hopefully.

“I can’t actually stay here for long. I have work.” Harry frowns, remembering for the first time that today is a Saturday, but on Monday his life will have to go on.

“You’re on a three-week leave from now on.” Liam tells him. 

“I’ve  _ just  _ started, I can’t-”

“It’s a matter of national security. You can.” The agent says sternly. “You’ll be staying here for three weeks, limited contact with family and family only.”

“My friends-”

“Hazz, please.” Louis says weakly. 

Harry just stares coldly at him. It’s not like Louis is in a good position to make any demands or simply  _ ask _ for anything.

Liam doesn’t spare him another glance and talks to Louis instead.

“Boss’s in Ukraine, won’t be in the country till next week. You have until then to get your shit together, both physically and emotionally. I’m sure he’ll be paying you two a visit.” He says and Louis nods. “Okay, then. We shall be going.”

“Fridge’s stocked with everything you might need for the next few weeks. It goes without saying, but you can’t leave the house…” Zayn almost yawns.

“Security?” Louis asks.

“Upped to a thousand percent. You’re as safe as you can be.” Zayn, again.

“Guns?” 

“The usual. You’ll find them.” Liam winks.

“Thanks, Payno. Will you lemme know if the investigation amounts to anything?”

“You got it.” Both agents say it at the same time. Then they chuckle. Harry watches the whole exchange unbelieving.

“You take care of yourself, you hear me?” Zayn tells him. “Please.”

“You’re saying please, pretty. So of course I will.”

“Hate you.” He ruffles Louis’ hair.

“Love you, bro.” 

Liam says goodbye in a similar way. He’s trying to play the role of the  _ bad cop _ , but it’s hard to stay in character when Louis is so damn…  _ Cute _ .

Harry walks them to the door and does the courtesy of shaking Zayn’s hand. Once again, Zayn orders him not to leave the house, and reminds him that Louis’ medicine schedule is on the kitchen island. He tells Harry the WiFi in the house works for Netflix and YouTube, but that he can’t go on any social media. His calls to his family need to be scheduled in advance with the central office so they can trace everything and everyone will be safe.

“You fought for him to be here, you take damn good care of him, you hear me?” Liam is the one to tell Harry.

“Yes, Agent Payne.”

“Good.” He replies and walks away.

 

Harry closes and locks the door behind him, walking slowly towards the living room. He was waiting for this moment and now he’s dreading it; he doesn’t really understand the mix of feelings inside him at the moment.

“Help me sit?” Louis’ weak voice comes from the couch.

Harry steps closer and holds his back. Even like this, touching Louis is electrifying. He’s here. He’s  _ right _ here. Warm. Alive.  _ Real. _

Louis rearranges his body so he’s sitting against the sofa’s armrest, his stabbed leg stretched out and the other one under his bum. Harry takes the seat on the other end, looks right into him.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” Louis says, and Harry… Harry  _ laughs _ . “I know it doesn’t even begin to cover it, but-”

“ _ Cover it _ ?” Harry asks. “Who the fuck  _ are _ you? Is your name even Louis? What the hell is this British accent? Where you actually born on Christmas Eve? Why is your hair longer? Do you even  _ like _ cereal? Are you gay? What did they mean by  _ you fell in love with the job? _ Why the  _ fuck _ was I  _ a job _ ? How could you leave like you did?”

The questions come out of his mouth quicker than he expected. And there are many more from where those came from, but Louis starts replying immediately.

“I am Special Agent Louis Tomlinson. That’s why they call me  _ Tommo _ , it’s a nickname my close friends gave me in training. I’ve been working for the National Security Agency since I was twenty-two, but before that I was MI6 for four years. They recruited me at eighteen, when I was in sixth form… In England, where I’m from.” Louis takes a deep breath. “I’m twenty-eight years old and yes, I was born on Christmas Eve.”

“Where in England?”

“A very small town called Doncaster.” He tells him. “My mother married an American ambassador when I was fifteen; she died when I was seventeen. Cancer. I only have one sister, and she’s an agent too. INTERPOL.” Louis says. “My hair’s longer because I… Just let it grow, I guess. My last few cases didn’t require a certain… Look, so. I went wild.

I absolutely love cereal, and everything else you ever cooked.” He smiles, weakly so. “I do identify as gay, but- in my line of work, that doesn’t really matter sometimes.” Now, his smile fades. “What they meant was exactly what you heard. I fell in love on the job,  _ with _ the job. Not only with  _ you _ , which- I hope it’s pretty obvious, but with the  _ life _ I had with you.”

“You don’t walk away from someone you love. Not like  _ that _ .” 

“Harry.”

“No, Louis. You almost  _ killed _ me. You drove me  _ insane _ . That’s  _ not  _ love.” He gets up.

“You’re right, it isn’t. Coming to New York to see for myself if you’re okay, disobeying all the training and every order I’ve ever received…  _ That’s _ love.” And that… That leaves Harry speechless. “I left because I  _ had _ to. In ten years working as a spy- I never wanted to stay  _ so _ badly.

It was easy for me, you know? After I lost my mom I became- detached. No one really mattered anymore. I barely had a family, I was used to moving. When MI6 recruited me it was the perfect gig. I knew I’d have to stop one day, but by then I’d be forty something, accept a behind-the-desk job and marry someone average just so I wouldn’t end up alone.

When you came along, I-”

“I didn’t  _ come _ along, Louis.” Harry accuses. “Tell the story right. Tell me the  _ truth _ .” He sits down again, closer to Louis this time. “Why. The. Fuck. Was. I. A. Job?”

“Roger.” He says, at first.

“I figured as much. But  _ why _ ?”

“He got fired from Washington a few years ago, and passed up as a judge, and we all knew he’d be dangerous. When he started his new firm in Chicago, we thought we’d just watch him for a bit, make sure he wasn’t doing anything illegal.

Turns out, he not only tampered with important evidence, but he was also- uh, he was part of an extremist right-wing group that was tampering with the election results. We needed to act before the primaries, and we were working in a tight schedule, so- yeah.” 

“But- a  _ year and a half,  _ Louis? You had to  _ date me _ for a year and a half?”

“No, Harry, I didn’t  _ have to _ .” Louis confesses. “Four months into our relationship you were already so into me that it was easy to get anything I wanted.” It’s like Harry just got slapped in the face. “Only thing is that four months into our relationship, I was already in love with you.” Harry snorts. It hurts. It should help, but it  _ hurts _ . “I can’t tell you much more about Roger, and I’m sorry about that. But I can tell you  _ everything _ about me. If you’re- if you’re interested.”

“How did you know I’d be at the club that night?”

“I didn’t.” He says. “I was supposed to move into your building three days later; we’d meet as new neighbors. But I guess fate had other plans. And after our very first date I  _ swear _ that I thought- like-  _ now that I know you exist, how do I  _ not _ love you? _ ” Louis sounds exasperated. “I almost lost the plot right then. But the more time passed, the more I kept lying to myself. So they sent Zayn, to watch me.”

“Agent Malik.”

“Yes. He’s my friend, we trained together. He was also my handler for your case. He saw I was in love with you before he met you properly. Before I even admitted it to myself.” He looks down. “Roger acted slowly, but I was even slower. My bosses — Liam and, uh, Niall, I’m sure you’ll meet him soon — were getting impatient. I tried to stretch it till Gemma’s wedding, but I- I couldn’t.” When Louis looks at him again, Harry can see that he is crying. “Hazz, I’m so- so sorry. I never meant to-”

“Did you know that for the first few weeks I couldn’t  _ sleep? _ ” Harry tells him. “I went to my mother’s and every night she’d wake up to my screams in the middle of the night. Once, even Robin had to wake me from a nightmare. I had anxiety attacks all the time. I went to the school. I tried to help the teens, but they wound up helping  _ me _ instead. I didn’t let my sister or my friends call me by my nicknames because they all reminded me of you.” Every word seems like another stab at Louis’ body. His face crumples each time Harry tells him something new. “I had no job, no boyfriend, no perspective of a  _ life _ . I was alone and I was cold  _ all the time _ . I didn’t know a person could feel that cold.

I remember I went for a run one morning, and I just- I just collapsed on the ground in a park nearby. Then I remembered I hadn’t eaten anything that day. Or the day before.” He confesses. “It was the most painful type of loss.  _ You _ . You left me with nothing, making sure that you burned every last piece of my heart.”

_ “Harry, please.”  _ Louis begs. “I swear I couldn’t love you more than I do right now. And yet I know that I will tomorrow. I’ll always love you more tomorrow.” His voice is small, pleading, so uncharacteristically  _ Louis _ that it’s strange. But then again, Harry’s not sure he’s ever known what  _ is _ characteristically Louis after all.

“Well.” Harry sighs. “Guess we’ll have to wait till tomorrow then.”

 

-

 

It’s only half awkward when Louis asks for help to go to the bathroom. Harry wonders how long he’s been holding it in, since it’s already after lunch (they shared a frozen lasagna) and it’s the first time he mentions it. For a split second, he feels bad for not having offered before, but, well, Louis has a mouth; if he really needed it, he should have asked earlier.

Harry gets up and helps him.

“D’you think you can climb the stairs?” He asks. Louis was stabbed in the thigh not even twenty-four hours ago, after all. 

“I can try.” Louis nods.

He does try. But he fails. So, Harry carries him there. He’s in pain too, but Louis can barely open his eyes, and Harry promised Zayn and Liam he’d be on nurse duty; he doesn’t want to find out what those guys are capable of doing if he doesn’t follow the rules.

Harry takes Louis to the bathroom inside the suite — because it’s the one that has a bathtub, and Louis could use a bath. He doesn’t bother with closing the door, since only the two of them are in the house.

“I could use some privacy,” Louis says, standing in front of the toilet, holding himself on only one leg.

“I’ve seen your dick thousands of times,” Harry answers tiredly, his back to him, “Plus, I’m running you a bath.”

“Oh.”

Harry doesn’t reply. He lets Louis pee while he fills the bathtub with hot water and a blue bath bomb he found in the cabinet earlier that he  _ hopes _ is still good enough. As soon as Louis is done, Harry assists him in taking off his shirt and pants, and only now he notices that Louis’ body is hurt all over. His back is scratched and his stomach is a mix of purple, blue and yellow. There’s a huge cut right above his  _ It Is What It Is  _ tattoo, on his collarbones, and shit, everything must hurt a fucking lot.

He can’t even imagine how much Louis suffered before he entered the apartment; he still hasn’t asked what the man was doing there,  _ specifically _ , and he still doesn’t understand  _ why _ . Louis can use the  _ love _ card a hundred times; however, Harry will need a bit more than that to believe him.

 

This is probably the first time Louis is around him, stark naked, that Harry isn’t feeling aroused. Seeing so many bruises, the lawyer almost pities his ex. He does his best to help Louis get in the tub without having to hold him, but when it proves to be too difficult for him to lift his bad leg, Harry simply takes him in his arms and lowers Louis’ body in the water.

The groan that escapes Louis’ mouth is filled with both pain and relief.

“Do you need me to stay here?” Harry asks.

“No, I think I can manage,” he replies softly. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be right outside in case you need anything.”

 

Harry waits for a few minutes before calling out Louis’ name again, but the other man insists he needs more time. So, Harry does the next logical thing, which is lie down for a bit. He hasn’t touched his phone since… Forever. When he finally gets it, it lights up with dozens of messages and missed calls from his mother, his sister, his brother-in-law, and Nick. That’s right, Harry remembers the deal he has with his friends of always telling the other when they’re home, and instantly feels bad about not letting them know about his life; nevertheless, he’s been pretty busy, hasn’t he?

It takes at least twenty minutes for Louis to ask for his help. It’s enough time for Harry to read all his texts and will himself not to reply to any of them — Liam and Zayn made it very clear that he can’t be in touch with the outside world very often, so he opts for waiting a bit more to call his mother and/or sister. One call every two days, it’s all he is going to get.

He goes back into the bathroom and Louis is struggling to get out of the tub. Harry does his best not to stare when he reaches out his hands so Louis can hold them, but, even so, it’s hard for him, therefore, Harry does the next best thing, which is lift Louis’ body with his own.  _ It’s all right _ , he tells him. Louis is  _ blushing _ , since he isn’t used to being helped that much, but Harry cannot focus on that now.

“Can you stand on your own?” He asks Louis in a small voice. Louis nods and Harry silently steadies him outside the tub, looking for the towel.

Harry goes as easily as he can on Louis’ body, and he even suppresses a few tears along the way. Louis flinches just a bit when he runs the towel on his stomach, and it’s only half awkward when Harry goes for his more sensitive parts. He doesn’t stare. He doesn’t make conversation.

The silence in the bathroom is deafening when Harry patches up the cut on his leg to protect it from his clothes. He works as fast as he can and his hands only tremble a little. 

“Lift one foot for me, please,” Harry murmurs, getting Louis some joggers; he guesses they can forego boxers or briefs today. Louis does it obediently, one foot at a time. “It’s a bit chilly. Do you want a shirt?”

“Did you bring another hoodie?” 

“Uh- I brought the gray one.” He scratches his hair. “I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks, I’ll… Brush my teeth meanwhile.” And then, Louis turns around to the sink. 

Harry leaves him once again and it’s like he can breathe. As much as he’s trying to convince himself that he’s fine, he is actually about to have another breakdown. Every time he sees the bruises in his and Louis’ body, every time he hears Louis’  _ real _ accent, every time he so much as  _ looks _ at Louis, Harry almost loses his cool.

Because, at the end of the day, Louis is  _ here _ . They’re going to be spending a  _ lot _ of time together again, and at the same time that Harry knows that nothing is like before, nothing can  _ ever _ be like before, since Louis 1) Is a freaking NSA  _ Special Agent _ , 2) Left him, and 3) Came back in an unexpected and  _ dangerous _ way, Harry can’t help but wish to be normal, to hug him and be in his arms; he wants them to take care of each other, he wants them to make his a honeymoon of sorts, he wants… He wants them to be in love with each other.

Still, rationally speaking, he also  _ knows _ they  _ can’t _ . Even though Louis claims that he loves Harry, that he is irrevocably in love with him, _ Harry _ doesn’t know if he’s in love with this British version of Louis. He has no idea whether this man is the same man he loved six months ago, or if he’s only the shell of him. 

He takes three deep breaths, runs his hands through his hair again, gets Louis the gray hoodie (Old Louis’ favorite one of Harry’s), and goes back into the bathroom.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry responds. “Lift your arms, please.” Louis tries, he really does, but it visibly hurts. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

Harry puts it over Louis’ head first, and then, just like with babies, he carefully manoeuvres Louis’ arms. He knows it must hurt a bit, but less than before. 

“ _ Thank you. _ ” Louis says again. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

“More sleepy than anything. What time is it?”

“A little before five o’clock. We should wait before sleeping.” But, just talking about it, Harry yawns. They both chuckle.

“Or, we could sleep for twelve hours straight. ‘M sure I can do it.”

“Or that.” Harry says and offers Louis his arm. Louis takes it and they walk back into the bedroom. “There’s only this one bed- which,” He smiles down at himself, “Is pretty rom-comish of the NSA…”

Louis laughs.

“It’s a safe-house. No one needs two bedrooms in a safe-house.” He explains.

“Well.” Harry sighs. “I can take the couch, I’m quite okay, actually…”

“Harry.” The agent says. “Both your body and your mind have been through horrible stress. You’re exhausted, and so am I. We’re both taking the bed.”

“Louis, I-”

“We’ve done it plenty before.” He argues.

“Before you left me and broke my heart and stopped existing, you mean?” Harry points out. “Ugh, sorry, I’m-”

“You’re not really sorry.” Louis grimaces. “You want to hurt me, just like I hurt you, and I get it, I do. But leave it for tomorrow when we’ve slept, yeah? We’ll have time for you to tear me apart emotionally or whatever you wanna do.”

“It fucks me up that I want to punch you as much as I want to kiss you.” And  _ yes _ , he  _ has to be _ extremely tired to be saying this shit.

“You could do either of those things.” Louis shrugs.

“Punching you would hurt you even more physically, and I really don’t want that. Kissing you would destroy me  _ even more _ emotionally, and I don’t think I can  _ take _ that.” He confesses. “Guess we’re sharing a bed then.” Harry decides.

 

Louis sits on an uncomfortable chair in the bedroom while Harry finds them more blankets. He makes the bed and helps Louis lie down. Then, he goes downstairs and fetches them both some tea. He smiles to himself as he does it. Louis always preferred tea to coffee, and now Harry understands why. 

When he goes back up, Louis is still awake, but barely.

“You didn’t have to.” He says.

“You can’t go to bed without a cup of tea.” Is all Harry replies and hands him the mug.

“Still perfect.” Louis smiles after tasting it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this accent.” He blurts out.

Louis laughs.

“It’ll grow on you.” 

“It’s weird.”

“Oi.”

“Not- not weird like, ugly. Weird, like- it sounds like you, but it’s not-  _ you _ .”

“It’s me, Harry.” Louis says. “And from now on, I’ll be the most  _ me _ that I can with you. But I promise it won’t be much different from what you know.”

“Apart from your accent,” he points out.

“Apart from my accent,” the man chuckles again. “And a few other things.” He sets the mug aside, on the bedside table.

Harry finishes his tea fast, too.

“I’ll have thousands of questions, you know?”

“I hope to be able to answer all of them.” Louis says. Then yawns. 

“Okay. We should sleep.”

He gets up just to turn off the light, leaving his mug on the bedside too. He doesn’t realize, but they’re both on “their” sides of the bed. It stings just a little bit in his heart.

Harry turns on his side, his front to Louis, who’s still lying on his back. He can barely make anything out in the dark, but he still knows exactly how the other man looks from this angle. Damn it.

“Goodnight, Louis.” Harry whispers.

“Sleep well, Hazz.” Louis whispers back.

He doesn’t cry at the nickname.  _ He doesn’t. _

 

-

 

Since they went to bed super early, they also wake up super early. Harry knows Louis is awake just by the way he’s breathing, but he doesn’t say anything, and Louis doesn’t either.

It should astonish him, the fact that he can still tell whether Louis is sleeping or awake by how many breaths he takes per minute, but given how much Harry loved him, longed for him, lived for him, it’s not that shocking; it’s very normal, is what it is. And normal scares him more, sometimes, because he’s had normal before.

God, they were both  _ so _ normal!

Some people dream of greatness when they are kids. If they’re American, the chances of them dreaming about being Hollywood megastars or Washington’s biggest politicians (depending on what area they like the most) are even bigger. Kids in the United States are taught that they live in a great country, so they must do great, important things that are going to impact society in some way. 

But there are exceptions. Harry’s family was never that greedy, and Harry isn’t either. As a kid, he dreamed of being happy. As a teen, even when he was still figuring himself out, all Harry wanted was to be so boringly normal that people would so much as glance at him and be disgusted. He’s a lawyer, for Christ’s sake. If there’s anything more boring and  _ normal _ and  _ expected _ than this, please, let him know.

And for a while, he had everything he’d dreamed about. He’d had a big, boring apartment, a safe, boring job, and the love of his life — who also led a  _ normal  _ and  _ boring _ life by his side, but still made him feel like every day of their lives was a new adventure. Love was the only adventure Harry would ever need. It was  _ everything _ he’d always wanted. Until it was taken away from him.

 

Now he’s here. In an odd house and a bed that isn’t his own, with a stranger whom he used to know so well and turned out to be anything but normal: a high level agent at the National Security Agency. Harry can’t contact his family properly, his friends don’t know what happened to him, and he’s not sure he’ll even have a job when this is all over.

Harry is so far away from  _ normal _ and  _ boring _ right now that he could cry, he  _ would _ cry, if it weren’t for Louis’ agitated breaths by his side. Despite everything Louis brought into his life, his solid body beside his, right now, is the only thing preventing Harry from completely breaking down.

 

“What time is it?” He finally asks, his whispers sounding like a thunderstorm in the quiet bedroom.

“Six on the dot.” Louis’ responds. The raspiness of his voice is still the same, his accent is not. Jesus, it’s  _ so thick.  _ Harry needs to get used to it. He needs to stop focusing on it. It’s just- hard,  _ okay _ ?

“Gimme five minutes and I’ll get started on breakfast.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“Five minutes, Louis.”

So, Louis shuts up.

 

Five minutes later Harry gets up and goes to the bathroom. He goes through his morning routine without a hitch, and after he finishes washing his face, he offers Louis some help. Louis declines it, says he can get up just fine, so Harry doesn’t press it. When he gets to the stairs, he can hear Louis’ groans as the man tries to get up, but he doesn’t go back.

Harry’s boiling the water for the tea while scrambling the eggs when he hears Louis calling. He’s in the middle of the stairs and, apparently, he can’t move.

 

“I’m sorry.” Louis mumbles as they make their way downstairs.

“You don’t need to apologize. You’re in pain.”

“So are you.” 

“I think-” Harry says as he helps Louis sit at the table. “I think we’re in very different kinds of pain right now.” He grimaces.

“I’m sorry for that too.”

“Yeah.”

 

Harry works in relative silence. They have a one-station-radio playing softly in the background and, because the universe has taken up playing pranks on him,  _ Still the One _ by Shania Twain is on. Harry doesn’t take his eyes off the food when Louis starts humming along with the melody.

Once the tea is ready, so are the toasts and the eggs. He places a plate in front of Louis and one for himself.

“I’ve put some honey in your tea and, before you protest, it’s gonna do your throat some good. You sound a bit hoarse.” He explains.

“Thank you, Harry.” Louis smiles.

“How did you do it?” Harry asks before Louis can even touch his fork.

“Do what?”

“Keep the American accent for so long?” He frowns. “I’ve been trying to let it go, you know. Been telling myself that you’re British so  _ this _ accent of yours makes sense. But for almost two years,  _ two years,  _ Louis, you had the most  _ perfect _ American accent. So, please, tell me, how did you do it?”

“It wasn’t always perfect.” Louis points out. “When I got drunk, at first, it was really hard; so I started drinking less around you.” He confesses. “It’s not the toughest accent, the American one. Once, I had to sound like I was an Indian man speaking American English- that was tougher.”

“What the fuck?”

“Zayn had been kidnapped. It was right when we started working together. I was negotiating over the phone.” He explains quickly. “ _ Anyways _ . I’d been living here for a while, before we- uh, met. And I had a coach, obviously. She once made me read two Harry Potter books out loud, because she wanted me to pronounce British words with an  _ American _ accent.” Louis tells it as if he’s reminiscing it, almost fondly.

“I never noticed the British coming out when you were drunk.” Harry comments. They have both started eating now, but it’s slow. The conversation is still the most important thing at the moment.

“You were almost always drunk, too. Once I called Gemma’s fiancé  _ mate,  _ which is very British. I made up some ridiculous excuse that I’d been watching too much Doctor Who.”

“You  _ had _ been watching too much Doctor Who. With me.” He remembers.

“Yeah.” Louis looks up. “Gemma’s married now, right?”

Harry swallows hard.

“She is.”

“How was it?” 

“You really asking me that?” Harry snorts.

“I am.” The man smiles sadly at him. “At the end, I was stalling, you know? I was holding on to you, to that life of ours like it was the only thing that would keep me alive. The day of Gemma’s wedding I got so drunk, you’ve no idea.”

“Oh, trust me, I do.”

“I  _ wanted _ to be there. I  _ wanted _ to be with you.”

“It’s kinda hard to believe.”

“Is it?”

And no, it isn’t.

For all Louis has put him through, Harry  _ still _ believes him. Harry  _ knows _ Louis loves him. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have come back. If Louis didn’t have real feelings for him, he wouldn’t have found the man bleeding in his apartment. Louis wouldn’t have been willing to  _ die _ for Harry if he didn’t love him. As crazy as it sounds,  _ love _ isn’t what’s at stake here.  _ Love _ isn’t even what’s making Harry angry.

It’s trust. Or the lack of it.

Harry hates Louis for not having trusted him with the truth when they were in a relationship (as fake or staged as it might have been for Louis’ agency). Harry hates Louis for breaking his heart and his  _ trust _ . Harry can’t forgive him just yet.

And that’s what he tells him.

“I can’t forgive you at the moment, Louis. It’s been  _ one day _ .”

“Can you forgive me at all?” The agent asks, hopeful as ever.

“I don’t know.” He whispers.

“But there’s a chance?”

“There might be a chance, yeah.” Is all he says. Then, after a few minutes: “Gemma’s wedding was beautiful, and perfect and everything she imagined. I took a friend from work; she met her boyfriend there,” he chuckles. “I didn’t lose it, which surprised everyone. I did miss you every single minute of that ceremony and that party. You would’ve loved it.”

“I’m sure I would have.”

 

-

 

The next few days go by so normally that Harry almost forgets what kind of situation they’re in. He calls Anne one morning, and she screams at him for three straight minutes, until he makes up some excuse about having been sick and not wanting to worry her. She asks whether he wants her to go visit him or not, and Harry politely declines it, promising his mother he’ll pay her a visit when he’s feeling a bit better and has a break from work.

_ “Are you hiding a boyfriend from me, Styles? _ ” Anne asks.

Harry almost chokes.

“I’m most definitely not.” He replies. An ex-boyfriend, maybe. 

_ “You sound… Different.” _

“It’s because I’m constipated.” Harry does his best to keep this light.

He changes the topic, eventually, and asks her about everyone else. Anne goes on for minutes on end. The whole time he’s on the phone, Louis is sitting on the couch, pretending he’s not paying attention to whatever Harry’s saying, but Harry knows that he is.

Louis’ relationship with Anne was perfect from day one. Harry would joke and say she loved Louis before Harry did, but that would be a blatant lie. Anne was a close second, though. Gemma… Gemma was a bit more difficult… It took Louis five whole days for them to become best friends.

The phone call takes forty minutes. Once it’s over, Louis asks Harry to turn off his cellphone again and sort of confiscates it. Harry doesn’t complain. Instead, he starts working on cleaning Louis’ wounds and bandaging them again, as well as giving him his pills. The swelling on Louis’ face is a lot better and it’s not even dark purple anymore… More like dark yellow with tiny spots of black. His stomach is better too, although it still hurts when he moves. The cut in his leg, though… Harry figures that will take a longer while to heal, but Louis swears it’s not as bad as it was on Friday. Harry only believes him because his own cuts and bruises are a lot better, even though they can’t exactly be  _ compared _ .

 

“Wanna watch anything?” Louis asks on night five. It’s a Wednesday, Harry thinks. They don’t have a calendar here, so forgive him if he’s a bit lost.

“Wanna know where you went after you left me.” Harry sighs.

Louis turns off the TV at once. It’s around eight p.m., and they’ve just eaten. The lights are off in the living room, but the ones in the hallway and in the kitchen are on, so they aren’t in complete darkness.

It’s a bit chilly, but not cold enough to turn on the heater. Louis adjusts himself on the couch and puts the blanket around his shoulders. Harry waits anxiously to know if he’s going to get a straight answer or not.

“Lots of places.” Louis chooses to go with.

“The first one?”

“Germany.”

“Why?”

“Zayn was there.” He shrugs. 

“Do you speak German?”

“Yes.” The agent swallows and decides to speak more. “I speak six languages fluently. About nine if you consider some others at intermediate levels.”  _ Holy shit _ . “To be fair, I was taught English, German and French while I was in school. Then I learned Spanish, Chinese and Russian, obviously. The other three, the ones I’m not quite fluent yet are Farsi, Portuguese and Bulgarian.”

“Holy shit.” Harry reacts.

“I first went to Germany because Zayn was there and I knew he’d help me lick my wounds. He was also working on a case that required lots of boxing, and I spent a whole month just punching things.” He grimaces. “Then I was called into the office and they gave me a new case. I was undercover in the Russian government, which I can’t tell you about, but… Let’s say I made some enemies. They dug into my past, went to England, hired some guys and then they… They found you.

Almost every operative agent in England felt betrayed by me when I started working for the NSA, and I couldn’t blame them, really. I just never imagined they’d turn on me like that.”

“So I was…?”

“Collateral damage of a failed operation.” Louis explains, but not coldly. He seems like he’s in pain. “When I was in Russia, I… I met this man, right. And he asked me out.” He looks down. “I hadn’t dated anyone since- uh, you. And it was my third month without you, I was fucking miserable, and Zayn told me to go out, said I just needed a quick fuck and I’d be over you.” It stings. Harry hopes Louis can’t see it. “I guess Zayn knew it wasn’t going to work out like that, but that’s what he had to say. I couldn’t forget you and going out with that guy only made things worse. I couldn’t  _ do _ anything with him and I just… Spiraled, I guess.

The following week I kept fucking up and I couldn’t be undercover anymore as I couldn’t… Focus. Liam had to pull me out of the case, but by then I knew they’d found something out about… About me. Only thing is, they didn’t go after Louis Tomlinson, NSA Special Agent. They went after Louis  _ Parker _ , because that’s who I’d become. 

The  _ Agent _ Louis was told to stand down. And he tried. But I… I couldn’t. ’S why Zayn called you a few months ago. He wanted to know if you were okay, because I’d… I’d vanished.”

“So, you’re saying that if- if you hadn’t fucked up and basically unleashed hell upon me I… I never would have seen you again.” Harry gathers.

“I’m  _ saying _ that I was  _ always _ going to fuck up. Because no amount of time without you would make me forget what we had.” Louis says.

“You would’ve never come back. You would’ve let me spend my life thinking I was  _ crazy _ , Louis.” He accuses. 

“I like to believe I would have come back, eventually. And you were never crazy, Hazz.”

Harry wants to tell him to shut up and never call him by his nickname again because it fucking  _ hurts _ . But he can’t. 

“I want to know more.” He whispers. “I want to know every detail from the moment you cleaned out my apartment to the moment you decided to break into it again.”

“I can’t tell you  _ every _ -”

“I don’t give a  _ shit _ about Zayn’s mission in Germany or the fucking Russian government.” Harry spits out. “I want to know about every time you cried, every time you vomited because you were so  _ sick _ of yourself. I want to know if you hurt, if you thought of me when a song came on the radio and if it fucking killed you when you smelled my cologne on someone else.  _ That’s _ what I’m talking about.”

“W-why? Why are you doing this?” Louis asks.

“Because by last week I was only crying every three or four days, and I could pretend to everyone that when I threw up it was because I’d had too much to drink and not because I hated the person I’d become. I could even tell myself I didn’t hurt anymore and I had definitely turned my playlist into something  _ Louis-free _ . I changed my own cologne and made myself forget yours. But now you’re here and everything’s crumbling down inside  _ and _ around me, so you better fucking tell me you’re just as broken. Otherwise there’s no point in me even trying to forgive you.” 

“One day you’re going to have to stop acting like I did everything on  _ purpose _ and start believing me when I say I had no fucking choice.” 

“That day is not today.” Harry crosses his arms.

The other man takes a deep breath and rearranges himself on the couch. He lays his head against a pillow and stares at the ceiling, as if he’s considering where he’s going to start. Eventually, he seems to decide to answers Harry’s questions in order.

“I actually cried very little, which was a surprise, because I’m a crier whenever I’m watching a good romcom.” He smiles. “But it was like I was dried up, somehow. I only spoke when I was spoken to, I only slept when I couldn’t take it anymore and I only ate enough not to pass out- so I guess I didn’t throw up much. Maybe once a week when I’d get pissed on an empty stomach; I did that on purpose, though. 

I was hurting long before I left, Harry. I hurt every day from the moment I started loving you for real, ‘cause I knew we’d come to an end.” At that, he turns his head slightly to the right, eyeing Harry. “I didn’t listen to any music and I didn’t smell you on anybody else. It was the small things, really. The cheese in the supermarket aisle and a curly kid playing on the street. I think kids were what hurt me the most, can you believe?” He chuckles sadly. “We’d have been the best parents, and I’d ruined that too.” Pause. “Does that answer all your questions?”

“You’d wanted kids with me?” Harry asks.

“I wanted the world with you.” He replies.

 

-

 

Niall Horan arrives on Friday morning, almost exactly a week after what happened. Louis is in the shower and Harry’s just finishing breakfast, so, he does the polite thing and invites Niall to eat with them.  _ Agent Horan _ , that’s how he’s supposed to call the blonde man. Different from Louis, his accent is very much American; Boston, Harry would say.

He tries to make small talk with the man, but it’s useless. Niall doesn’t really answer any of his questions, only comments on the weather and thanks Harry for the pancakes. He asks Harry if the house is to his liking and if he’s called his mother again. Harry hasn’t, says he intends to do that on Sunday, and that seems to satisfy the man.

It takes Louis fifteen minutes to come down the stairs, with the help of crutches. He’s fresh out of the shower and strikingly beautiful, and Harry needs to avert his gaze for the second time this week, scared that the man will see how attractive Harry still finds him. Sometimes Harry still feels like Louis’ eyes will pierce his soul. It’s like he’s got no control over it. The effect Louis still has on him is too big. 

Louis shakes Niall’s hand and sits down across from him, by Harry’s side. If he’s surprised that his boss is here  _ today _ , he doesn’t show it. 

The three of them eat in silence for a few minutes, until Niall drops his fork and his knife loudly on the plate, smirking at Louis.

“Isn’t it  _ cute? _ Don’t we look like a proper family here?” He asks ironically.

Oh, shit.

“Horan.”

“YOU DUMB FUCK!” Niall smacks a punch on the table and gets up, looking at Louis with a murderous expression. “Do you have  _ any _ idea of the  _ danger _ you put yourself in? Your  _ friends _ and the whole fucking agency? Do you even  _ care?”  _ He asks. “And for  _ what? _ A mop of curls who makes pancakes and sucked your dick once or twice?” Niall scowls at Harry and Harry immediately looks down.

“You say whatever you want to me, bossman, but like  _ hell _ am I gonna let you speak about him like this.” Louis is still calm and collected, sitting as his chair and picking at his food. But his voice is so sharp it could cut glass. It’s scary.

“That’s what I’m talking about, you’re completely  _ stupid _ for him.” Niall points at Harry. “You almost died three times in the last six months and last week you almost let those three assholes destroy everything we’d done for this country in the past few years. I almost lost my  _ job _ , Louis.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.” He replies. 

“You’re not. That’s what gets me.” Niall’s pacing now, trying to loosen his tie. “You’d do it ALL again.” He opens his arms. “You’d have come here regardless of what anyone said.”

“Can you imagine what would’ve happened to Harry if those guys had found  _ him _ instead of  _ me _ in his apartment last week?”

“I don’t  _ care _ , Tommo.  _ Harry _ ’s not my priority. You’re my ag-”

“He’s  _ my  _ priority, Horan. And no matter what you or Zayn or Liam try to tell me, you can’t  _ possibly _ blame me for this, not when I put my ass on the line for you hundreds of times.”

“Those times were  _ different _ .”

“Cuba, 2016. How was  _ that _ different?” Louis crosses his arms and sits back, looking at Niall.

“I wasn’t your boss back then. I wasn’t responsible for this country’s National Security and I didn’t have the President of the United States as my Commander in Chief. I didn’t have a shot at Vice-Presidency.”

“Riiiight. And  _ how _ did you become my boss, exactly?” Louis raises his voice. “Oh yes, I took the foul for  _ you,  _ because  _ you  _ fell in love with a pair of boobs and a humongous ass who turned out to be a secret spy. I sacrificed my career time and time again so  _ you _ could have a shot at this.” He explains. “You’re my boss because  _ I  _ let you be my boss, Horan, don’t you ever fucking  _ forget _ it.”

Only now Harry remembers he still has a grape on his mouth he’d better swallow. Disgusting.

Niall sits down again.

“I was worried about you.” He tells Louis.

“And I appreciate that, but I’m fine. I always turn out fine.” Louis says and the other man nods.

“I sent Special Agent Calder to Russia, the operation’s back on track and I put your sister in the loop ‘cause I needed some names in the  _ no fly _ list.” Niall catches him up. “Jesy’s on Harry’s family, everything seems normal,” he looks at Harry as he says that. “Zayn’s at the embassy and Liam’s taking meetings at the White House, trying to coordinate with the CIA to scan possible threats; and I… I don’t know what to do with you, Tommo.” 

“Liam hates the CIA.” Louis snorts.

“Don’t we all?!” Niall smiles sideways. “How’re you feeling?” He asks.

“You know I’ve had worse.”

“Cuba 2016, yeah.” He nods. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Vice Presidency, uh? Trump?” He frowns.

“Course not.” 

“A Democrat?” Louis seems shocked.

“ _ No, _ ” Niall rolls his eyes. “There’s this guy who thinks he can beat Trump within the Republican party. I guess I believe in him.” He shrugs. “Let’s see.” Then, he gets one more pancake and puts syrup on it. Louis resumes eating, too.

Harry’s still dumbfounded by everything that happened, but both Louis and Niall have moved on and are talking about changing the air conditioning unities at headquarters. Louis says that his office could use more light, too, and Niall tells him that they can arrange that once Louis is back in Washington. 

“When’s that gonna be?”

“When you’re back on your feet, of course.” He smiles. “Now, how are you feeling, Harry?”

“Uh- I don’t know, to be honest.” Harry frowns. “I’m worried about my job.”

Both Niall and Louis exchange looks.

“What?” Harry asks.

“James knows.” Louis tells him in a small voice.

_ “What?” _

“I sent him your resume before I- before I left. He’s an old friend of ours.” 

“ _ Fuck you _ . Really? Oh my-” He gets up. “You know what? I’mma go watch some TV. You two can catch up on… Whatever.”

 

Harry leaves the kitchen and throws himself on the couch, unsure of what to do. He puts Amazon Prime Video on and presses play on the third chapter of  _ Good Omens _ . He was watching it  _ with _ Louis yesterday, but  _ fuck him _ . Harry doesn’t have to wait. 

The thing is, he can’t concentrate. For all he loves David Tennant, he simply can’t focus on what’s going on, because he keeps replaying everything that’s happened since NSA Director Niall Horan entered the house and how time and time again Louis stood up for him. 

You see, Harry doesn’t blame Niall for yelling at Louis like he did. As an agent, Louis put all of them in an impossible situation; however, he’s also gathered that Louis is not only one hell of an agent, but he also holds a much more important position than his peers; Niall, who is the  _ Director _ , owes Louis his position. Which means that Louis takes his job seriously, and he’s never, not once, fucked up this big.

And for him to have done that… For Harry. Damn.

Harry sighs and turns the volume up, and for some good thirty minutes he makes himself forget that there are two National Security Agents in the kitchen.

 

-

 

Eventually, he does get engrossed in the story. He guesses Louis is doing the dishes, because he hears running water coming from the kitchen, and he thinks both Louis and Niall are still talking, but then the sofa deepens by his side, and there Niall is.

“Mind if I sit?” The Director asks rhetorically. 

“Suit yourself.” Harry replies ironically.

He really tries to focus on the TV, but Niall keeps talking.

“Do you regret meeting Louis?” 

Harry thinks for a few seconds. Then, he replies honestly.

“I don’t regret it. I just wish it hadn’t happened.” He says.

“Why not?”

“Seriously?” Harry snorts, and the other man nods. Harry pauses the television. “Louis came into my life like… Like a tornado. From afar, it was beautiful, but it was actually devastating. It made me feel everything and then… It tore me to pieces. When he left I- I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Like I said, I don’t regret it. I just wish it hadn’t happened.”

Niall sizes him and then turns on his side, his whole body towards Harry.

“You know what my mama used to say?” He starts. “I was always screwed over by girls when I was kid and it kept happening with every woman I met until a few years ago when I met my missus.” Niall tells him, and shows Harry a wedding ring, for effect. “One day, I told my mother that I’d given up, and I  _ swear _ to you I used a similar metaphor, and I’m  _ pretty _ sure I used the word tornado, referring to my past girlfriends. And she went like:  _ Darling, relationships are usually like that; just make sure she loves you. If she loves you, then she can be any kind of tornado she wants _ .” Niall finishes. “Wise woman, my mother.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“Harry.”

“Yeah.”

“I hate being the Devil’s advocate, but Louis loves you.” 

“I know that.” And, well, maybe he doesn’t  _ know _ that, but that’s what Louis  _ says.  _ And that’s what Harry  _ feels _ .

“So. Forgive him.”

“Why do you want me to forgive him?” Harry squeezes his eyes. “Aren’t I just a mop of curls who sucked his dick once or twice?” 

Niall gets up. The water has stopped running in the kitchen.

“If I really thought that, Louis would be in a prison cell right now, and you’d be in witness protection.” He winks. “Have a good one, Harry Styles.” Niall walks away and, before Louis enters the living room, he directs the man by the arm towards the front door.

Harry watches from the couch as the two… Friends (?) say their goodbyes, and then Louis comes walking towards him, dropping himself on the couch, almost exactly where Niall was mere minutes ago.

 

“You’re watching without me.” Louis states once he checks the TV. He seems… Disappointed.

“Sorry, I’ll rewind.” Harry apologizes as he fumbles with the remote control.

“No- you don’t have to.” The other man touches his arm and… It’s the first time, really, that they touch  _ just because _ . Harry shivers. “Just catch me up.” Louis says, letting him go.

So, Harry catches him up. They discuss a little bit about the characters, but nothing too deep. Then he presses play again, and they spend the rest of their afternoon marathoning the show and eating absolute garbage. It’s a good thing they had a healthy breakfast turned into brunch.

Around ten p.m., they opt for sandwiches, since they’ve been munching on sweets for hours. They eat together in front of the TV, and when the last episode ends, they make their way together upstairs. Harry takes a shower first and gets into bed before Louis.

Out of all the days they’ve been spending here, today was a tiring one, more emotionally than physically, of course. Harry goes through all the conversations he’s already had with Louis, the one  _ Niall _ had with Louis while Harry was present, and then he one the man had with Harry while Louis was doing the dishes. It was all… A lot. Harry isn’t sure he’s even processed everything.

 

Louis takes longer than he usually does in the shower, and it takes everything in Harry to block out the noises that he  _ thinks _ he’s hearing. It makes sense, it really does. They’ve been here for five days now, Louis  _ was _ bound to wank at some point, could never go more than two days without sex. Harry… Harry’s about to die of blue balls too, but he’s controlled himself so far. Doesn’t think he will tomorrow, though. (If Louis can do it, then so can he.)

He doesn’t even pretend to be asleep when Louis gets into the bedroom. He asks his ex to turn off all the lights and Louis complies, getting under the covers right after.

“Hey, H?” He asks in a low voice.

Harry, instead of answering just like he is, face to the wall, turns on his side, looking at Louis. Again, it’s pretty dark, but they’re very close.

“Hm?” 

“I’m sorry you had to watch me and Bossman fight like that.” His voice is small, soft. 

“That’s okay. He seemed pretty mad at the beginning, but then… Then it was all right.”

“That’s Niall Horan for you.” Louis chuckles, then, slowly, places his hand on top of Harry’s in the middle of the mattress. Harry  _ should _ move his own, but he doesn’t. “And I’m sorry,  _ again _ , for everything.”

“Louis-”

“Even when I was leaving, I was never leaving  _ you _ .” He confesses.

Harry doesn’t really know how to answer. So, he chooses to go with:

“Good night, Lou.” 

He closes his eyes and doesn’t remove his hand from underneath Louis’. Louis doesn’t reply, but chooses to entwine their fingers instead. And that’s how they fall asleep. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Forgive me for all the inaccuracies when it comes to agencies, agents and whatnot. It's not like I know what I'm talking about here hahaha.)
> 
> All the love.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, babes, it's nice to be here again.  
> The chapters will be posted as I write them. I promise you I never leave stories unfinished.  
> As always, it'd be ace if you told me what you think.
> 
> All the love,  
> M.
> 
> <3


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